


Shattered...

by Frostyunicorn300



Category: BBC Sherlock, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Sherlock (TV), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Abduction, Adjusting to a new place, Amnesia, Angst and Feels, Brainwashing, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Emotional Instability, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Experimentation, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Hydra (Marvel), Mutant Powers, Mutants, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pain, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recovery, Sherlock Holmes Has a Heart, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Super Soldier Serum, Torture, Violence, Winter Soldiers, X-Men References, somewhat canon, teenage relationships, teenage romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-29
Updated: 2018-08-28
Packaged: 2019-06-17 23:49:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 18
Words: 28,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15472806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frostyunicorn300/pseuds/Frostyunicorn300
Summary: Moving to England wasn't something Persephone was excited about, not that she was given a choice in the matter. But its not so bad when she's introduced to a boy a little older than herself. He's tall, svelte with curly hair.Everything about their relationship seems so perfect in the beginning. Until the monsters of her father's past comes to claim her as their own. And when she's found...she's different.She's like Shattered glass...





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is either the best idea I've had in a while or the absolute worst, stay tuned. 
> 
> Just a quick little blurb before things start.  
> Usually when I write I tend to imagine certain actors/actresses as base models for my characters and I've never really addressed it at the beginning of a story before...until now! So I thought I'd share with you who I see in my head as the sisters, so I see Adelaide Kane (I love her) as Persephone Petříková and Kate Beckinsale (again, love.) as her older sister Harmonia.

(Persephone P.O.V.) 

1983   
I was born in Spring, it was a cold, dead Spring, the leaves grew slow and farmers couldn't grow their crops in the frozen ground. It wasn't unusual for Sokovia to have long Winters, but it was for early May. And it was starting to concern those who really cared about what season it was and the environment. On the morning of my birth specifically my father said the ground was frozen and cracked from the cold, the air stung people's cheeks and the birds and small animals stay in their nests or burrowed away.   
My father said my mother had a difficult pregnancy with me, it caused her much pain and many doctors appointments, the doctors suggested she abort to save her own life but she didn't want to give me up.   
My father told me that she grew up in France, in a city called Reims, that her name was Charlotte and when they met there was an instant connection, a spark between the both of them that couldn't be ignored. So my mother left her home and traveled back to Sokovia with my father where they quickly married and had my sister, Harmonia, almost seven years before me.   
So the day I was born my father held me in his arms and they named me Persephone. Everything was fine the first few months but after a while my mother's heath deteriorated and shortly after she died, leaving just the three of us, and all I have of her is photographs hanging on the wall. 

1996  
Now it is late July, almost fourteen years later, my sister and I are enjoying the warmth of the sun outside our home. We look the same, my sister and I, although we have a few differences. Harmonia is taller than I am, we have the same dark hair except her eyes are hazel and mine are brown, there's not much else about it.  
Our father is at work, but he does not tell us where, we have no idea what he does other than he is gone for so long, sometimes regular 9 to 5, other times his day is short, sometimes its long or we won't see him until the morning the following day. I don't like that he's keeping secrets from us, but I respect his decision in doing so as he is my father.   
My sister turned to me, skin kissed from the sun, she was lucky like that. She always got tans, I always burned. She looks at me and says, "do you ever wonder what father does?" She props up on her elbow, "I mean he told us that it is a secret but have you ever wanted to uncover it?"  
I take a deep breath and look up as a cloud covers the sun, "yes," I say to her, "I think about it sometimes but we promised him we wouldn't ask questions." I said, closing my eyes. It was silent for a long while, the sun made my eyelids turn red.  
"Have you ever wondered how different things would be if mama was still alive?" I say before I could stop myself. At that moment I didn't open my eyes, not wanting to see Harmonia's face.   
"Yes," she whispers. "Yes I do wonder, Percy." 

 

A loud rumble over my head and a stiff breeze made me open my eyes, it was late in the day, the sun had gone and the sky was covered in grey clouds ranging in all shades. Harmonia had gone inside, and it began to grow chilled, a drop of rain hit my forehead and then it started to pour, I let out a laugh as the rain quickly soaked my sundress. I stood from the grass and ran quickly into the house, shutting and locking the back door. My dress clung to my body and was heavy against my skin, dripping water onto the linoleum, I looked down at my feet, I was missing my flip flops. Turning around I lifted the curtain covering the window and saw them in their blue glory, being rained on helplessly.   
"Oops," I giggled, I could go get them but I'm already soaked and cold.   
Turning away from the window I went upstairs, my bedroom was the last door down the hall, its small and mostly white with a splash of colour here and there. On my bed sat my viola, I must've forgotten to put it away this morning. The stand and case is by my window. I like to observe the people down below as I play, I feel as though I'm narrating their lives as they walk by. It's the simple things you know.   
I smile at the thought and turn to the left, there was a bathroom attached to my room, we had two and this was the only one which had a bath. I took a towel off the rack and ran it up and down my arms and chest, its soft and fluffy from the recent wash. The door across from me opens, Harmonia comes in a laughs at me, not to make fun, just a small little laugh.   
"You fell asleep out there," she said, opening the drawer for the toothpaste. She was dressed in her pyjamas already.   
"You're going to bed now? It's only eight!"   
She looked at me with side eyes and raised eyebrows, "Percy, not all of us can sit around and read books all day, some of us have jobs."   
I hummed, "you only got the summer job with Mr Melnyk because his son likes you so much."   
Selene scoffed, feigning offence, I looked at her, my smile grew on my face as I was unable to contain my giggles, she joined me and we laughed about it. I moved to sit on the edge of the bath, patting my hair dry.   
Harmonia squeezed some paste onto her tooth brush and sighed, "you're right, Ivan does like me...and I would go for him too...if he wasn't so dimwitted," she bit her cheek and turned to me. "Is dimwitted to harsh?"   
I pursed my lips and thought about it before saying, "not if it's true."   
Harmonia laughed, almost choking on her toothbrush, she took it from her mouth and spat in the sink. Downstairs the front door shut and the sound of keys was heard being thrown into the bowl beside the shoe-rack. My sister and I both look at each other and wait for him to come up and greet us, but he doesn't. Instead we hear him lock up the house, one lock at a time, he was almost frantic, panicking. What was going on? 

I was woken in the middle of the night by someone shaking me. I opened my eyes and stared at the window for a second before turning to looking at my father, his hair was crazed, eyes wild and crazy with fear. In my own I sat up straight and backed up against the headboard.   
"Papa?" I asked, timidly and unsure, he doesn't answer me right away, instead he does over to my dresser and starts pulling out my clothes. Slowly I move to turn on the lamp closet to me when he whispers harshly, "don't!" I pulled my hand back, my father then says, "pack up, quickly, only the essentials and make as little noise as possible." He left my bedroom.   
I got out of bed slowly, confused and worried. I ask myself again, what is going on?   
But I ask no other questions, instead I begin packing, I wasn't sure what clotning to bring so I just packed what I thought I would need. I took my satchel off my door and filled it with my favourite books, ones I couldn't leave behind. I wasn't one to keep unnecessary things that I didn't have a use for, I scanned the trinkets and things on my dresser and picked up my favourite photograph of my mother, she's sitting on the grass somewhere in a yellow sundress, trying desperately to hold onto her sunhat as the wind picked up, I always thought she looked exactly like Harmonia, they could be twins almost, but she didn't see it despite my insistence. I carefully place it on top of my suitcase and zip it up. I dress myself and look around, it finally dawned on me that this was happening so suddenly, my father didn't have to say that we were leaving Sokovia, somehow I knew...I just knew.   
A lump grew in my throat as I pushed to keep the tears. I took a deep breath, the ache in my heart set in, thumping through my chest. I moved around my room slower, taking it all in for the final time, he couldn't give me more time to say goodbye to it all.   
I walked over to my window and packed up my viola. Headlights outside my window, in curiosity I moved the curtain back. A large truck was parked outside of my house, suddenly armed men came out through the back, they were big and ominous, another man was with them. He was tall with shaggy brown hair, goggles and a muzzle covered his face, all but his forehead, he was dressed all in black. His appearance on that alone only made me shiver, it was his arm that shook me, completely made from metal, I wasn't close enough to see what type, it had a large red star on the bicep. I grew up on tales of the Winter Soldier, but I never thought I would see him in person...  
Suddenly my door opened and my father gestured for me to to grab my things quickly, so I did.   
He practically carried me down the stairs, "papa what's happening?" I ask, the fear finally setting in.  
"Don't ask questions, follow your sister outside."   
He let me go in the kitchen, Harmonia held the door open and I ran out into the backyard, mud seeped through my shoes, spreading onto my socks. Slowly my father shut and locked the back door.   
"Over the fence, quickly. And be silent!"   
Harmonia went over first, I quickly lowered our bags towards her and followed. My father was last. The moment his feet touched the ground I could hear the front door to our home being kicked in and shouting. "Go!"  
We listened to our father and ran, through other backyards, through an alleyway where a black car was waiting. My father wasted no time tossing our things in the trunk.   
I sat in the back with Harmonia, her hand never left mine when our father started speeding down the road.


	2. Chapter One: When We Met

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock might be out-of-character. Who knows what teenage Sherlock was like? Also sorry if its not great, it'll get better in later chapters...

Redwood College  
Portsmouth, Devonshire 

Sherlock Holmes had hoped the library was empty, as it often was in the late afternoon, well it was always nearly empty. There was always one or two, maybe even three still around. Many students had gone back to their houses or went to the social centre or even the older students had gone into the neighbouring town.   
It was a late in October when he met her. She was one of the few in the library, curled up in a leather armchair by the fireplace. Her brick red blazer was thrown over the back, the rest of her uniform was disheveled and her hair had been tossed up haphazardly. Sherlock moved closer, she had captured his interest surprisingly enough, though she had not said nor done anything, but Sherlock felt like he had to meet her.   
By the right arm of the chair sat a satchel, it was well used and had two flag patches, one for France and another for a country he couldn't recognize, it was blue, white and red with a golden crest of a bird with a crown in the middle. At some point the bag must've fallen over, books spilled from it in a sort of domino effect. Books of music for the viola at the third level and piano at the beginners. A book on Henry VIII and lastly one entirely on...vampires, it was strange but he figured if she was as curious of a person as she seemed at that moment it wasn't. There were other things he could see just past the pages, lip balm, a hairbrush and a little coin purse and a letter addressed to her from someone named Harmonia.   
Sherlock quickly grabbed a book from one of the shelves, not taking a peek at the title before hand. He swiftly sat in the empty armchair next to her. Sherlock opened the book up to a random page, somewhere in the middle. He kept his nose covered, just to look at her.   
She had an oval shaped face that was emphasized by the pulled up hair, she had full lips and focused eyes that were dark like her hair, the flames of the fire danced in orange shadows across her fair skin. Her complexion itself seemed flawless, without a bump or pore in sight.   
She was small in figure, her hands were slender and her nails were long and painted with clear polish, Sherlock observed. In her hands she held a novel entitled 'The Iliad' one of Homer's works. It wasn't a library copy, but her own and it appeared well read from the folds in the spine. This girl looked younger than him, fourteen years old at most yet she seemed mature for her age, smarter, more defined.   
Suddenly she spoke, her voice no louder than a whisper. "Charlotte Brontë? Funny you don't strike me as the type to get any enjoyment out of romance novels." Her accent seemed Eastern European to Sherlock's ears.   
Despite the playfulness of her statement, her voice was was sweet and gentle, soft like a summer breeze against ones cheek.   
"I'm sorry?" Sherlock asked, rather dumbfounded.   
The girl smiled a little, "that book in your hands, Jane Eyre."   
Sherlock looked down at the book he held, indeed it was what she said.   
"Oh, um," he cleared his throat, "yes." He shut the novel. "It's a favourite of mine," he said in false confidence, hoping she would believe him, instead she smiled lightly, closing her own book.   
"No it isn't, you just grabbed a random book of the shelf as an excuse to sit next to me."   
Sherlock furrowed his brows, how could she know that?   
"If you wanted to meet me, you could've just said, "hello", that would've worked just fine."   
"I'm...sorry," he said, Sherlock swiftly got up from his chair and put the book back in its spot and was about to leave when a hand grabbed his arm, he turned to the girl, she was standing behind him, her nails dug a little into his flesh but it didn't hurt due to the layers of his uniform.   
"You don't have to leave yet," she let his arm go and crossed hers behind her back. "I'm Persephone, but you can call me Percy," she introduced.   
"Sherlock Holmes."   
Persephone nodded, "its nice to meet you, Sherlock."   
Sherlock noticed now how short she was, it was almost funny. At first he expected her to be taller, from how she was sitting.   
Sherlock couldn't think of anything to say, so instead what came out of his mouth was, "are you new?"   
Embarrassed by the question he sighed, Persephone furrowed her eyebrows at the question but answered anyway, "yes, I am. We just moved to England a few months ago from..." she hesitated, "elsewhere." She said, Persephone turned her head away and stared off into the fireplace, "it was a sudden move, it happened so quickly." Her lips twitched upwards into a small smile, "I should go," she said.   
Sherlock just stared, he watched Persephone gather her things and scurry from the library, the smell of her soap leaving a trail behind her, vanilla and sandalwood. 

________________________________

Persephone rushed through the halls, she had overslept and was now late for class. Chemistry, it wasn't her strong suit. Don't get the wrong idea, Persephone is a genius, respectively, everyone in her family is, but that doesn't mean she's perfect. And it didn't help that she had a test in a few days on physical and chemical properties, not like she was going to pass, with flying colours anyhow.   
She could already feel Mrs Wright's cold stare and hear her shrill voice as she sped along, and in no way could she use the excuse of being new and not knowing where anything was since it was well into the second month of term.   
Regardless of being in a rush, she took the tome to look at the different halloween decorations in the halls. It was all new to her, Halloween isn't celebrated in Sokovia. She was fascinated by the holiday, especially how they chose to decorate, spiders, bats, witches, pumpkins, everything you could imagine. Some professors even kept them in their rooms.   
Persephone smiled at a cutout of a black cat, spine curved and hairs on end. Above it was a clock, it was just 9:30, a sharp gasp escaped her lips, her eyes widened in alarm and she sped off down the hall once again. 

_______________________________

When he met her again it was raining, she was seated at a table by the window, a paper coffee cup in her hands, she had a pen between her fingers as she watched the rain pour down outside. This time her uniform was neat and her hair was down with some of it pulled back with a gold clip. Sherlock observed as she set the cup down and twirled the pen in her hands, bringing it down to write something in her notebook.   
Mustering the courage he joined her at the table, taking the chair across from her. She didn't look up at first, Sherlock quickly took his notes and chemistry textbook from his bag and wasted no time making it look like he was working.   
After a few minutes Persephone looked up, a little smirk crossed her lips, "you found me again," she said, turning the page in her own textbook.   
From where he was sitting, Sherlock could see the chapter title. The English civil war. This was possibly a topic she's never been taught about until now, not sure she would've learned about England's history where she was from, actually he didn't know where she was from, he had been sidetracked with his own experiments and work that he forgot to look it up, surely he couldn't just up and ask her, could he? Well he possibly could but was unsure of how well that would go for him. Finding the silence rather insipid, he just asked her, "so, where are you from?"   
Persephone looked up at him through dark lashes, pen never leaving the paper.   
"Sokovia." She answered.   
"And where is that?"   
This time she put down her pen, "between the Czech Republic and Slovakia, its small, you'd never see it unless you were actually looking for it."   
"Why did you leave?" Sherlock asked after a few more moments of silence.   
"Why are you asking so many questions?" Her tone was playful, Sherlock could see she was trying to hide a smile as she wrote something down.   
"I want to get to know you," he said.   
When she didn't say anything he tried again, "I could help you," he offered.   
"Help me with what?"   
Sherlock nodded towards her textbook, "the civil war, I could help you if you'd like."   
Persephone smiled at his proposition but politely declined, "I'm alright, thank you, its nothing I cant handle."   
Persephone met his gaze for a moment, her eyes narrowed and she pressed her lips together, "hold on, are you implying I don't know anything about England's history, Holmes?"   
"Not at all," he said in a soft voice, quick to defend himself, "it was just a suggestion."   
Persephone picked up her paper cup and took a drink from it, she grimaced and sit it down, a small shiver went up her spine, "cold coffee," she whispered, "I can't think of anything worse."   
Sherlock smiled a little at her lightheartedness. "I could think of a few things."   
"Like what?"   
"Oh I don't know, being caught out in the rain or...something along those lines."   
"Oh I don't think so, I adore rainy days." She said, Persephone stared at the curly haired boy. His hair was dark, and his eyes were a kaleidoscope of colours; blue, green and silver. He was taller than she was, svelte in appearance, not to mention quite handsome and so far the only person to capture her attention since she arrived.   
"Coffee?" She asked.   
Sherlock looked up at her, eyebrow raised. Persephone shrugged casually, "would you like to get coffee?" She asked again, pressing her lips together, waiting for his answer.   
"With me?"   
She rolled her eyes with a smile, "who else?" She asked and began putting her books away. She stood up and nodded towards the door, "c'mon," she said and turned towards the door. Sherlock hastily put his own things away and followed her, even managing to trip over the carpeted floor.


	3. Chapter Two: A Friend

"So wait, Sherlock Holmes, you said?" Her roommate, Grace asked, she was tall and blonde, pretty too if you ignore her wonky left eye. Persephone turns to look at Grace.   
"Yes, do you know him?" She asks, her voice is muffled by her book, one that she lowered to see the blonde better. Currently, she was laying down on her bed, opposite Grace.   
"No," she admitted, hoping up on her bed, her beanie baby collection bounced around as she did, messing up the order she had them in. "But my sister does, she's in his class. She says he's weird."   
Persephone raised an eyebrow, she looked over at Grace, bemused, "he's not weird, he's different." She says.   
"Different, weird, it's all the same really," Grace said with a shrug. "Like you, you're different, weird. I mean, you barely talk to anyone, you've always got your nose stuck in a book, you don't follow any trends, and just look at your side of the room, books, a violin, plants, no bright colours, no posters...do you even listen to music?"   
Persephone rolled her eyes and sighed. She closed her book and sat up, facing her roommate.  
"Yes," she said, "I listen to music, just not your type of music, and it is not a violin as you chose to point out, its a viola, similar but different."   
"Whatever," she said, to Persephone, Grace appeared to hold herself to a higher standard than her, maybe she thought she was prettier or perhaps it was because she had more money.   
Suddenly Grace pointed a perfectly manicured finger at a poster on her wall. "Do you know who that is?" She asked.   
Persephone was tired of that game, people assuming she has no idea what was popular or what was in style because she comes from a small country in the middle of Eastern Europe. She huffed and said, "Madonna." With a roll of her eyes, she laid back down and opened her book again.   
"Easy guess," Grace insisted, "what are you reading anyway?"  
"Frankenstein." Was her simple answer.   
"Oh, I saw the movie once, it was awful." To Grace's surprise, Persephone chuckled, "the movies have it all wrong you know, what actually happens is–"   
Grace cuts her off, "I actually don't care." She said and stood up, she fixed her dress, and stuck her feet in some shoes, they were chunky and impractical looking. Persephone watched from the corner of her eye as she applied way too much lipgloss.   
"Well, I'm off to meet Barnaby, don't wait up." She turned and left with a flick of hair over her shoulder.   
Snapping the book shut she stood up, fixing her blue button-up pyjama shirt. She kept her music things in her side of the closet. She could walk to the music hall and practice the piano there but that would require actually getting dressed and brushing her hair, and she planned on staying in her room for the majority of the weekend only leaving it to do some essential things like using the bathroom or make a cup of tea or coffee, whichever she prefers.   
Persephone set her viola case in her bed and walked over to the window, opening it to let in the crisp October air.   
Tuning the instrument she thought about the other day when she walked into the social centre with Sherlock, they sat in the café, she had herself her usual coffee, black, two sugars. But Sherlock had tea.   
"Not a coffee person?" She had asked him.  
"Not really no." He said, sipping his tea.   
She remembered that she bought them biscuits too, she didn't think he would be interested in that sort of thing but to her surprise, he ate the majority of them. "I didn't know what kind you'd like so I just got Gingernut."   
"Gingernut is more than fine." He said. Persephone nodded and drank her coffee.   
"So...what do you do for fun?" She asked him, Sherlock blinked at her question, not really sure how to answer as no one has ever asked him that question before.   
"I play the violin," he said at last.   
"Really? I play the viola. Well, I used to just play the viola, but since I got here I've picked up the piano as well." She set her mug down, "what else do I need to know about you? What books do you read?"   
"Oh I'm not much of an avid reader," he said, noticing Persephone frown a little. "I do read on occasion when I'm bored enough. I take it that you're the type of person who reads out of enjoyment?"  
Persephone nodded, "I can't think of anything better than a good book on a rainy day." 

Persephone smiled at the memory, still fresh in her mind. Standing she walked over to the window and pulled her viola up to her shoulder, then she brought the bow down and played the first note. She had Bach in mind today, Viola Suite No. 6 in D Major, BWV 1012: III. Courante, if you wanted to be particular as she would be. Bach's Suites were perhaps her favourite, although Antonín Dvořák was another favourite of hers, as he was her mother's favourite. 

Sherlock had thought about paying Persephone a visit, but he had no idea where and she didn't tell him the house she was staying in. He had checked the library beforehand and she wasn't there. A gust of wind made Sherlock shiver, he tightened his coat around himself and was about to turn around when he heard the sound of music. At first hearing, it sounded like a violin but it was a lower register, a viola it seemed. He thought nothing of it until he recalled that Persephone mentioned that she played the viola.   
With this newfound information he walked towards the sound, and sure enough, two stories up in the Eel Marsh house, there she was, still in her pyjamas, playing her heart out. Sherlock stood there and watched, two girls came out the door, this broke his gaze and he looked at the redhead and brunette. They both saw him and giggled to each other before scurrying away. A third girl closed the door behind them. She walked straight up to Sherlock, hands tucked into the pockets of her pea coat.  
"Are you lost?" She asked Sherlock. Feigning a smile he looked at the girl, "no," he said, "just waiting for someone."   
The girl followed his gaze up to the open window before coming to the realisation. "Ohhh," she said. "Persephone huh?"  
Sherlock nodded briefly, not liking this girls tone very much. "Why would you want to hang out with a weirdo?"   
Sherlock shut his eyes, no, he didn't like her tone at all. His first instinct was to protect Persephone and point out everything that was wrong with the blonde girl in front of him, but he rather would in Persephone's presence, instead he said, "I like her," his voice was kept low, he was still unsure, he thought he liked her, definitely so, he'd need to wait a little longer to be sure.   
The blonde girl he was speaking too walked away.   
Sherlock looked up at the window again, Persephone stood there,  viola in her hands. Their eye contact was brief but enough was said at that moment, suddenly Persephone disappeared from the window. When she didn't return after a few minutes, Sherlock turned to leave when the sound of the door opening and closing made him turn around. Persephone stood there, her hair tossed up in a bun, not a trace of makeup on her face, she wore a long wool cardigan over a button-down shirt and jeans tucked into a pair of Bean boots. She strode towards him, wrapping her arms around herself.   
"Hi," she said, it was a simple greeting, but it made Sherlock smile.   
"Hi," he said back, Persephone looked around, there were people everywhere, sure they were scattered about, but they were there.   
"Coffee?" Sherlock asked, this time it was Persephone's turn to look at him confused.   
"Huh?"  
"Would you like to get coffee?" He asked again, echoing her words from the other day.   
"Sure," Persephone said softly, following the taller boy to the social centre.   
As they stood in the cafe line Sherlock moved his head to look down at Persephone who stared out the window.   
"Would you like to take a walk?"   
"Huh?" The short brunette looked up, eyebrows furrowed, "what did you say?"  
"I asked if you would like to take a walk, instead of sitting down."   
"Oh, sure why not."  
When it was their turn to order, Sherlock did for the both of them while Persephone waited by a table. He joined her shortly after and picked up two sachets of sugar and handed the larger to-go cup to her, remembering the size she ordered the other day and figured it was her usual. She held it with both hands, the hot liquid inside burning her fingertips, but she didn't mind.   
"Two sugars, correct?" Sherlock asked, bringing his own cup up to his lips, Persephone nodded and smiled, "I didn't think you'd remember." She whispered softly, mostly to herself but Sherlock heard her.   
"Of course," he said, "what are friends for?"   
The statement left Persephone dumbfounded, he called her a friend...no ones ever called her that before, actually she's never really had a friend.   
Persephone has always had a hard time getting along with others her age, all her life, she was either to quiet, too loud, or her sense of humour left people feeling awkward. So she found solace in her books and after a while formed a mild disinterest for other people altogether, save for her sister of course, who's been more of a mother figure to her than a sister, but even still, sometimes that didn't stop her from trying to make friends, but it never worked out, she would often go distant quickly and the bot or girl she befriended would walk away.   
But the the the day she met Sherlock in the library she felt drawn to him somehow, enough to even say hello and its paid off surprisingly. Sherlock stood there and watched her stand there, gripping the cup tightly in her hands, eyes wide and face surprised. She stood there like that, frozen for several moments like she was still trying to process the use of the word "friend." And frankly, it was the first time Sherlock has called anybody a friend, not since his dog Redbeard anyhow.   
Sherlock smiled a little, and started for the door, "coming?"   
Persephone blinked, "huh?"  
"Are you coming?" He asked again, gesturing towards the door, "or are you going to stand there all day?"   
"Oh," she meekly said, "yes of course."   
Sherlock turned and left the cafe, Persephone stood there for another moment, feeling warmth spread through her body, her lips curled and she beamed, radiating joy as she met Sherlock outside. A friend, she has a friend.


	4. Chapter Three: Hot Chocolate

An alarm clock beeped and beeped and beeped, until Persephone eventually groaned and rolled over, half awake, half asleep. She opened her eyes and stared blearily at the infernal clock on her bedside table. Untwisting her arm from her bed sheet and blankets she slammed her fist on the black box, silencing it. Sitting up she pushed the hair away from her face and looked around. She was surprised to be in her bedroom, not the one she shares with Grace, no, her home in Berkshire.   
To her left she heard the door open, her sister stood there, dressed for the day already. Persephone stared at her with furrowed brows in confusion, "when did you get back?" She asked, her voice hoarse from sleep. Persephone reached for the glass of water on her bedside table while she waited for Harmonia to respond.   
"This morning, now c'mon get up, I made breakfast."   
Persephone smiled and brought the water to her lips, she drank it like she hadn't had water in nearly three years, it was gone in a second. Harmonia left her room and she got out of bed. Her bedroom window was on the right side of the room, where she usually stepped first in the morning. Persephone shoved her feet into her slippers and walked over to the window, pushing the white curtain aside. She was met with a layer of fresh snow under the grey sky. Her dog, that her father had bought shortly after they moved in, was barking around and jumping in the fresh white powder that covered the ground. She was a Vlcak, they called her Hana. And she's probably the sweetest dog ever the small family has ever met. Persephone moved away from the window and dressed warmly. 

The loud sound of boots down the stairs made Harmonia look up from her magazine on the couch. She stood up from the couch and walked into the hallway to see Persephone put on her coat, hat and mittens. The older sibling crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow at her little sister.   
"Where are you going?"  
"To take Hana for her morning walk," she said, leaning against the wall to shove her jeans into her boots.   
"You haven't eaten yet," Harmonia reminded her.   
Persephone grabbed the leash off the coat rack. "I'll eat later," she said opening the door.  
"Percy–" she closed the door. Harmonia sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. 

Outside Persephone let out a breath, watching it cloud around her. A bark to her left caught her attention. Beaming at the dog, Persephone opened her arms for the large pup. Hana ran for Persephone and took a leap, knocking her down onto the ground, Persephone let out an "oof," and a wheeze while her dog just wagged her tail.   
"Up," Persephone commanded. Hana moved out of the way and Persephone stood up, wiping the fresh snow off her jeans, but not before it melted and seeped in, touching her skin. Persephone shivered at the cold and felt uncomfortable. But that wasn't going to stop her, she waited all year for it to snow and she wasn't going to let something like wet pants spoil her fun.   
"Wanna go for a walk?" She asked her dog. In her excitement, Hana barked loudly and spun in a circle, making a hurricane of snow, Persephone laughed and held out her hands, trying to stop the snow from hitting her in the face.   
"Enough!" She giggled, "Hana sit!"   
Hana obeyed, wagging her tail. Persephone bent down and clipped the leash to her collar. She held onto it tightly and started down the road. "C'mon."   
They started walking. 

Sherlock was woken early that morning, on the request of his parents to shovel the walkway. He didn't want to do it and was going to protest but ultimately he didn't want to upset his mother. As he sunk the plastic into the snow he wondered what Persephone was up too, what she was doing. Suddenly a barking dog caught his attention and he looked up, what looked like a wolf was bounding right for him with a small girl on the end of the leash, trying to keep up. From a distance, the girl looked like Persephone, but it couldn't be, right? Oh, but it was.   
She noticed him too, grinning from ear to ear she was lead right to him by her dog, who upon reaching Sherlock, immediately started sniffing his pants.   
"Hana, sit," Persephone commanded. Her dog obeyed, sitting in the snow beside them.   
"Good girl," Persephone praised.   
"Percy..." Sherlock said in surprise, "what are you doing here?"   
Persephone pointed to a white house just a little way down the road. "I live down the road." She said.   
"Why didn't you say anything when we got home last night."  
Persephone shrugged, "because I didn't know you lived here."   
Persephone noticed that Sherlock was still holding a shovel, "oh...I see you're busy." She said, pressing her lips together. "Should I go?" She asked.  
"No," Sherlock said almost too quickly, quicker than he would've liked. Persephone raised an eyebrow, "I mean, no I'm not busy." He said much calmer and level-headed. Sherlock moved to rest the shovel on the red paint of his home before rushing back to Persephone. "See? Not busy."   
Persephone simpered at him, "alright, why don't we uh...drop Hana over at my house and take a walk?" She offered, "I can even make us some hot chocolate to take with us."   
Sherlock nodded and Persephone grabbed Hana's leash. 

"So, what breed of dog is she?" Sherlock asked regarding Hana, who was now staying close to Persephone's side.   
"She's a Czechoslovakian Vlcak." Persephone turned to Sherlock briefly to see his muddled expression.   
"Wolfdog," she simplified.   
"She's beautiful," Sherlock said after a few moments of silence.   
Persephone hummed, "she is...do you have a dog?"  
"Uh, I had an Irish Setter named Redbeard when I was a kid."   
"Redbeard?" Persephone chortled, Sherlock's ears turned, "are you laughing at me?" He asked her.  
"No," she insisted, giggling harder, "okay perhaps a little bit." Sherlock frowned but she kept the smile.   
"Hana was almost my name you know," Persephone said, a small little bit of information about herself that she hadn't told Sherlock.   
"But my mother decided to name me Persephone to match my sister, Harmonia." They reached the white fence surrounding her home. "We're here," she announced. Leading Sherlock to the front door she kicked her boots on the side of the house before opening the door, letting Hana off her leash who immediately bound for the living room down the hall.   
Sherlock looked around. Her house was cosy, the walls were either white or beige. He looked to his right, into the living room. Her house had hardwood floors, the walls were white, a large dog bed sat by the bay window, a basket of toys nearby. Her furniture was grey with quite a few pillows and blankets. She didn't appear to have a television, there was, however, a large bookcase, full of books. Directly across from him was a white fireplace with four stockings nailed it. Each with a different name; Harmonia, Persephone, Hana and Papa.   
Sherlock saved the Christmas tree for last, it was large and appeared to be a real tree, decorated in a way you'd normally see in a movie or on a television special.   
"Hey," Persephone called from the kitchen, "are you coming or not?" She asked. Sherlock nodded and walked into the kitchen, getting another look at the living room.   
The kitchen was cosy, Persephone had set her coat, hat and gloves on a small round table accompanied by four chairs, her outfit was simple, powder blue turtleneck and jeans.   
The counters and cabinets in her kitchen were made from cherry wood, the fridge was next to the archway to the living room. It was a standard kitchen, nothing too special about it, besides the few Christmas knickknacks here and there. Sherlock sat at the table and watched her move around, taking a pack of chocolate chips from the cupboard, dumping a cup into a saucepan.   
"You don't use the hot chocolate powder?" He asked.   
"No," she said, adding sugar, water and a pinch of salt to the pot, "I wouldn't want the powder stuff anyway." She said, bringing it down to a boil.   
"Are you hungry?" She asked.   
"Uh, sure I guess..."   
she turned around and opened the fridge, taking out a large Tupperware container. She heated up whatever it was, but Sherlock noted the smell of paprika that filled the air almost instantly. She poured it into two bowls and handed him his share.   
"What is it?" He asked, looking at what appeared to be chicken and egg noodles in a creamy red sauce.   
"Its chicken paprikash," she said. Sherlock watched her eat half her bowl before attending to the hot chocolate.   
Sherlock pushed it around with his fork for a moment before taking an experimental bite, it was warm and flavourful, it wasn't something he's had before, it wasn't spicy like he had thought it would've been.   
When he was finished, he stood up and put the empty bowl in the sink. Taking a deep breath he took in the rich smell of the hot chocolate and her vanilla smelling perfume.   
Persephone could feel him lingering behind her, a blush crept up her neck and engulfed her face. "Um, could you pass me the thermos?" She asked.  
"Where is it?"  
"Cupboard above the fridge."   
Sherlock retrieved what she asked, he handed her the silver thermos. Persephone began filling it with the hot drink and screwed the lid on tightly. Handing it to Sherlock she put her winter-wear back on and grinned up at him. "Ready?" She asked. Sherlock was going to say, "let me grab my coat" but it appeared that he hadn't taken it off so he just nodded and they set out into the cold.


	5. Chapter Four: Summertime

It was warm, the sun was out and it hadn't rained for several days now, a late August day. Sherlock left his house in dress pants and a button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up, he will not stoop to shorts, absolutely not.   
He took off for Persephone's house, there was a slight possibility she was still asleep, regardless if it was one in the afternoon.   
Hana was the first to spot him, she stood up from her spot on the grass and ran towards Sherlock, he greeted the pup, bending down on a knee to give her much needed attention.   
"Hey girl," he kept his voice soft but high energy. "Is Persephone awake?"   
Sherlock looked above the dogs head, Persephone was dressed in a t-shirt and shorts, sprawled out on the grass with a book covering her face. But Sherlock knew who this was, almost immediately. Getting to his feet he walked over to Persephone and stood in front of the sun, ignoring the burning sensation on his back. The cover of her novel had a picture of a woman carrying a baby and was entitled, "The Scarlet Letter."   
Sherlock stood in place for a few minutes, yet she didn't seem to know he was there, even when covered in the shade his body provided. He also happened to notice that her skin was turning pink, the beginning of a sunburn. Now he was less annoyed of standing directly in the sun and more relieved he was.   
"Percy," he called out, a muffled, "what?" Made him smirk a little.   
"If you keep laying there you're going to get a sunburn." He told her.  
"Well, not if you keep standing there I won't."   
Sherlock took a step away from her and Persephone felt the warmth of the sun again, "ass." She whispered and moved the book from her face, groaning at the brightness of the world. She sat up and rubbed the sun from her eyes.  
"I thought you were taking a trip to London?" She questioned, standing up.   
"We were but surprisingly Mycroft decided to come home today," Sherlock said, watching Persephone put her sandals on.   
"Really? Well, that's good I guess." She said with a shrug. She put the book on the porch and joined Sherlock on the road. They started walking down the way, their houses growing smaller in the distance.   
"So my father is building me a piano," Persephone said, a touch of whimsy in her voice. "Now that I've improved."   
They arrived on a hill, Sherlock took the opportunity to sit down, Persephone took the spot next to him, dropping herself on the grass, tucking her feet in under her legs.   
They sat there in a comfortable silence, Sherlock inside his Mind Palace and Persephone frowned while poking at the pink skin of her thighs, the suns reminder that she should've put on sunscreen. Sighing Persephone fell onto her side, looking at the world from a more horizontal perspective. From where they were sitting she could see a solitary house, she couldn't tell if it was abandoned or not, but it was dark and in disrepair from what she could see. It was painted a faded green that was chipping and the was a second empire Victorian, which was possibly her favourite variant of the era's architecture.   
Letting out another sigh, she began to rock back and forth, Sherlock took a glance at her.   
"What are you doing?" He asked.   
Without a word she began rolling down the hill, laughing all the way to the bottom. Sherlock stared at her, sprawled out, her fists full of grass.   
"C'mon Sherlock!" She called.  
Shaking his head he said, "absolutely not!"   
"Just do it!" She insisted, taking no nonsense.   
Groaning Sherlock laid on his side and tumbled himself down, finding absolutely no joy in this little activity at all, actually, he felt a small ache in his shoulder. When he reached the bottom he crashed right into Persephone, who closed her eyes, embracing for the impact of his lanky frame. She felt a heavy weight on her body and opened her eyes. Sherlock had rolled on top of her of all things, she stared up at Sherlock, eyes wide, dumbfounded and surprised, their noses touching. She could feel him breathing on her lips.   
"Are you going to get off me?" She managed to force hot, voice barely above a whisper. Sherlock rolled over, staring up at the sky, face frozen in his own disbelief.   
"Should we um...should we go back?" He asked.   
"Yeah, I think that'll be a good idea." 

________________________________

It was a rainy afternoon, Sherlock was back from his trip to London, he'd been gone for nearly a week. Persephone was curled up in the chair she kept in her bedroom, Hana was by her feet, asleep. In her hands, she held Emma by Jane Austen. She's seen the movie only once last summer, the movie was fine but like always, she preferred the novel. The small stereo she kept by her dresser was kept at a low volume, one of Mozart's symphonies played softly. A crash of thunder startled her, she jumped in her spot, Hana had woken up and now stood at attention.   
"Hana," Persephone called, the dog turned to look at her, "it's just the rain," she said and looked out the window, "I don't think Sherlock isn't visiting today," she whispered.   
"Well, I suppose I should just go home, then." A voice said, Persephone turned her head towards her door, Sherlock stood there, dry as a bone, must've used an umbrella.   
"Hey," she whispered, "how was your trip?" She asked.  
"Dull," was his response, Sherlock moved to sit on her squishy bed, the moment he sank into it he groaned.   
"Mummy dragged us to a showing of the Phantom of the Opera."  
"Oh," she whispered longingly, "I love The Phantom of the Opera! I've always wanted to see it! Have you read the book?"  
"No," he admitted, Persephone frowned, "oh well have you seen any of the movies at least?" Again it was a no, humming she came up with an idea.   
"Hmm, well I suppose we could start with the 1925 film..." she whispered. Setting the book down on her footstool she stood up and grabbed Sherlock by the hand and dragged him downstairs, into the kitchen.   
Sherlock raised an eyebrow but Persephone just opened a door left of the hallway. There were stairs that led down to the basement. She led him down and turned on the light. She pulled him through the laundry room to another door. When she opened it, Sherlock was met with another living room, identical to the one upstairs. She let him go and walked over to a small case that held a collection of movies. Sherlock took a seat on the couch, Persephone turned the telly on and stuck a tape into the VCR, she then skipped over to the spot next to him and grabbed the remote off the table, turning to the volume. The title screen appeared and slowly became focused so the title of the film was readable.   
After the opening with the ballet dancers, Sherlock furrowed his eyebrows, "its silent," he commented.   
"Mm-hm, yeah," was Persephone's response. "Now shut up and watch the movie."


	6. Chapter Five: Perfectly Normal

Sherlock walked down St Mary's Hall, the setting sun peaked in through the windows, igniting the corridor in a soft orange glow. The unmistakable sound of a piano echoed off the stone walls, and Sherlock remembered he came down here to take Persephone for a small dinner at the cafe in the social centre.   
The music room she was in was at the very end, the last door. He peaked in the small window, sure enough, she was sitting at the piano, expression one of focus as her eyes seemed to scan the sheet music in front of her. Sherlock hated to interrupt but they were on a bit of a schedule, not only was dinner on the table but Sherlock promised to help her with Chemistry as she revealed to him last year how hopeless she was on the subject and he was all for helping her if that meant he got to spend more time with her.   
Opening the door he stepped inside, and immediately went unnoticed, she didn't even bother to look up. He tiptoed behind her and bent down, over her shoulder to read what she was playing, Stairway to Heaven by Led Zeppelin for piano.   
Persephone glanced at him without turning her head, her first reaction was surprising and it showed when she suddenly slammed her hands on the keys.   
"Jesus, Sherlock!" She exclaimed, running a hand through her hair.   
"I'm sorry, didn't mean to frighten you," he said, putting his hands behind his back. "Have you forgotten our plans?"  
"Plans?" She asked in confusion, "what plans?"   
"Well, the other day we made plans to have a small dinner at the cafe and then go to the library to work on your chemistry."   
Persephone squeezed her eyes shut and huffed,"right, of course." She smiled awkwardly, "sorry, I just got all swept up in what I was doing." She explained, she stood and gathered her things. "I have a playing test tomorrow and I don't think I'm ready," she hastily explained, grabbing her music book off the music rack and shoved it in her bag.   
"I take it you're playing that song?"  
"Yes, it wasn't my first choice but I got sick last week remember? When I got back there wasn't much left to choose from off the song list."   
Sherlock opened the door for her and they entered the corridor.   
"But then I remembered hearing Stairway to Heaven a lot as a kid, Harmonia went through a phase or two, so I picked that one." 

________________________________

Persephone sat under a large oak tree, a blanket wrapped around her legs, a book in her hands and a to-go cup of coffee. The leaves fell around her and she couldn't help but smile, she adored this time of year, the cosiness, the colour, rainy days, Halloween. She loved it all. She saw Sherlock walking towards her and she beamed at him. He smiled back and took a few moments to find a dryer spot of grass before sitting down.   
"How was your day?" Persephone asked, attention snagged by her book once more, eyes scanning every word.   
"Dull," he responded.   
Persephone hummed, "many things are dull for you," was her absentminded response. "I wonder if you ever find me dull at times..."   
"No," he said, sounding somewhat offended that she would even think such a thing. "I find you perfectly stimulating, even if you read most of the time."   
Persephone looked up at Sherlock, a toothy grin spread on her face. "Yes, I do read amply, don't I?" She said, closing her book and sat up straight. "Often times I wonder what I would be like if I paid attention to everything current like...Justin Timberlake or The Spice Girls or...Teen magazines of all things. I wonder what I would be like as a normal teenage girl, one who's into makeup and fashion. But really I can't be bothered with all that trivial nonsense anyhow."   
"Yes, I don't think I'd like you very much if you were considered normal by society's standards, luckily you're perfectly normal to me."   
Persephone's face warmed and grew hot, her cheeks became red and she adverted Sherlock's eyes. "Thank you, Sherlock, I find you normal too," she said.   
It was quiet for a while, they listened to the laughter and chatter of passing students, music coming from the different houses, the faint sound of cars from the neighbouring town.   
"Read to me?" Sherlock suggested out of the blue. Persephone turned her face towards him, "huh?"   
"Read to me," he suggested again, moving his lanky frame until he was sitting beside her. He was close enough where Persephone could feel the warmth of his body on her right side. Swallowing the lump in her throat she cleared it and waited for her heart to beat at a normal pace.   
"Uh, sure." Opening her book she flipped to the beginning and took a breath. Sherlock wanted to her read, he was the first person who wanted to really, no one has really bothered before. Her eyes landed on the first sentence and she began. "The family of Dashwood had long been settled in Sussex. Their estate was large, and their residence was at Norland Park, in the centre of their property, where, for many generations, they had lived in so respectable a manner as to engage the general good opinion of their surrounding acquaintance. The late owner of this estate was a single man, who lived to a very advanced age, and who for many years of his life, had a constant companion and housekeeper in his sister. But her death, which happened ten years before his own, produced a great alteration in his home; for to supply her loss, he invited and received into his house the family of his nephew Mr Henry Dashwood, the legal inheritor of the Norland estate, and the person to whom he intended to bequeath it. In the society of his nephew and niece, and their children, the old Gentleman's days were comfortably spent. His attachment to them all increased. The constant attention of Mr and Mrs Henry Dashwood to his wishes, which proceeded not merely from interest, but from goodness of heart, gave him every degree of solid comfort which his age could receive; and the cheerfulness of the children added a relish to his existence..." 

Halfway through she had to stop, as it grew dark and she couldn't see the pages anymore. She closed the book with a sigh, taking a mental note of the chapter she left it at.   
Sherlock helped her fold the blanket and even walked her back to Eel Marsh. At the front door, she said goodnight and went inside. In the living room, her roommate Grace and the other girls were playing a board game of some kind, she wasn't curious enough to check it out, instead, she went straight upstairs to her room. Inside she put the book back on the shelf and put the blanket back at the end of her bed, leaning against the doorframe she pulled off her boots and hung her cardigan on the back of the door. Turning around she stared at the window, she didn't recall opening it, Grace must have when she left that morning. No matter, opening a drawer she pulled out a clean set of pyjamas and set them down on the edge of her bed. A chilly breeze wafted through the room. Persephone shivered and moved to close the window, but she tripped on something and stumbled, unable to catch her balance the kept stumbling until she reached the window, hitting her hip off the wall she leaned to far back and started to all out, a scream got caught inside her throat, eyes wide with fear. She reached desperately for the curtains but they kept blowing from her reach. As she plummeted she screwed her eyes shut and outstretched her hands towards the sky. She braced for the impact of the hard ground but it never came, she opened her eyes, gaze locking on her hands, she could see wind around them, pushing upwards towards the night sky. Like small little tornadoes, spinning around her palms. Turning her head she was halfway between the first floor and the ground. Was she doing this? Was this all a dream? A nightmare! What is happening? What even is this? Question after question jounced around in her head, none of which she had an answer too. In fear and dubiety, she retracted her hands, the wind had stopped and she fell into the garden.


	7. Chapter Six: Anna Karenina

Its been three days since the incident, Persephone has searched the library, read every single card in the catalogue, not a single thing. It frustrated her to no end, but then she thought about the possibility of the entire ordeal of her having powers to be a figment of her imagination. That it was just made up in a dream or was her mind drifting off into the unknown for a moment where magic and superheroes were real, or maybe she was just going crazy, it had to be one of them. With a sigh, she got out of bed in the late Sunday morning. Her roommate was already out of bed and gone, possibly with her friends.   
Tapping her toes on the cold floor, she stood up, grabbed her toiletry bag and walked into the bathroom down the hall. It was empty thank goodness, but the remnants of makeup and heavily scented body-wash still lingered. Persephone turned on the shower and set up shop on the counter. She didn't do or have much, as compared to the other girls. No makeup except for Chapstick, light and airy perfume, not heavy and thick enough to get inside a person's lungs and make them cough. She used to use those types, like her vanilla perfume last year, but since then she's had a change, opting for clean smells now. Like her current favourite; pure grace from Philosophy. It wasn't an overbearing scent and didn't make her cough when she sprayed too much. And to her knowledge Sherlock didn't seem to mind it, he's even complimented her on it, admitting that he disliked the artificial vanilla she used to cover herself in.   
And she just used simple soap, with a clean smell, and it was a bar, not a bottle of some slimy, gel-like substance that Persephone ultimately despised putting on her body, she hated how cold it was, the feeling of the soap before it turned into a rich lather on her skin. Suddenly the door swung open and Persephone stood there with wide eyes. Grace stood there, still in her pyjamas, she hadn't left like Persephone thought she had.   
"Sorry, I didn't know this bathroom was being used." She mumbled, looking at the things Persephone had on the counter.   
The blonde snorted and picked up the perfume bottle, "God, could you be any more plain?" She said, taking off the cap and giving it a sniff. Persephone pressed her lips together and took the bottle from her, setting it down on the linoleum. Grace put a hand on her hip and said, "what happened to the vanilla stuff you used last year? It smelled much better than what's in that bottle."   
"I um, I grew out if it," Persephone said quietly, picking up the bottle again, "this just seemed more...me." She flashed Grace a big smile and she rolled her eyes, "God, you're weird," without a response from Persephone, Grace shrugged, "whatever I'm leaving."   
She shut the door behind her, Persephone stared at the white painted wood with her head to the side and confusion on her face, what had she done that was weird? To her knowledge, she hadn't done anything that was out of the ordinary, for her anyway. Well, if you don't count the strange airy powers that she somehow acquired or didn't acquire, it all depends on if she can find a logical explanation for what it is. Sighing rather dramatically she grabbed her soap and loofah and stepped into the waiting, hot water.  
The sound of a slamming door and teenage yelling startled her, in her jumpy reaction she touched her eyes, effectively getting shampoo in them. Hissing at the burning sensation in her eyes she quickly moved to splash water in them. She hadn't even felt the spray of the water on her fingertips when a substantial amount of it splashed her in the face.   
That was strange, but she supposed that what she's going through right now, it's not so. Or perhaps she's just jumping to conclusions and she actually had touched the water but she just couldn't feel it. After a few seconds she managed to open her eyes comfortably, Persephone took a step back and stared at the stream of warm water, raising one hand she made a wave-like motion, at first nothing happened as she suspected it wouldn't, but when she was about to stop and continue on with her morning, the water started moving, back and forth, like a ocean tides. Instead of screaming from the initial shock she just laughed. Using both hands now she continued to play with the water, pulling it away from the shower head, back and forth, back and forth. Knocking disrupted her focus and she dropped her hands, the water landed in the tub with a splash.   
"Hurry up in there! I need to pee!" A girl shouted, banging on the door a few more times before leaving.   
Sighing Persephone finished her shower, with a small giggle every now and then, recalling what she just experienced. 

_______________________________

Sherlock decided earlier that they should take a walk, it was quite warm for an autumn day and the sun was shining for the first time this week. They were walking along a path in the courtyard, Sherlock was stepping at a smaller pace than he normally would, to keep up with her short legs. The height difference between them was something he both liked and disliked. Sometimes it was cute, when she couldn't reach things or when she got angry and would stomp her little foot, putting a hand on her hip. Other times it was annoying, like right now, with the walking, he couldn't go his normal stride without making her run or jog just to keep up with him. But listening to her read to him made it almost bearable. Today she had brought Anna Karenina, it amazed him how she could read and walk at the same time with perfect coordination, if it was him, he'd probably be stumbling or run into something. But she never did, almost like she could sense what was around her, even just now when she stepped over a forgotten maths book. Sherlock was certain would have just tripped. He tried his best to listen to the story she was telling, but somehow, staring at her was much more interesting to him, he couldn't tell why, maybe it was the way her lip curled when she focused, or the way she would glance up at him at every pause, with her dark eyes, eyes that never could decide if they wanted to be brown or hazel. Perhaps it was because he was trying to figure out how a girl who never wore any makeup could have a flawless complexion, both rosy cheeks and lips, and dark, long eyelashes. She was dare he say, beautiful, in an almost classic, effortless way. When the term started last year he never thought he'd have a friend of his own, much less a girl, especially one who never spoke about makeup or boys she found attractive or even ripping apart another girl to make herself feel superior, to his knowledge she didn't care about any of that, she liked music and books and coffee, old movies and long walks. She was smart and poised, quiet but not too quiet, had a sense of humour and was genuinely a wonderful person. Sherlock smiled at some of the words that left her mouth, heavily altered by her Eastern European accent.  
"Soon after the doctor, Dolly had arrived. She knew that there was to be a consultation that day, and though she was only just up after her confinement (she had another baby, a little girl, born at the end of the winter), though she had trouble and anxiety enough of her own, she had left her tiny baby and a sick child, to come and hear Kitty's fate, which was to be decided that day. "Well, well?" she said, coming into the drawing room, without taking off her hat. "You're all in good spirits. Good news, then?"  
They tried to tell her what the doctor had said, but it appeared that though the doctor had talked distinctly enough and at great length, it was utterly impossible to report what he had said. The only point of interest "was that it was settled they should go abroad.  
Dolly could not help sighing. Her dearest friend, her sister, was going away. And her life was not a cheerful one. Her relations with Stepan Arkadyevitch after their reconciliation had become humiliating. The union Anna had cemented turned out to be of no solid character, and family harmony was breaking down again at the same point. There had been nothing definite, but Stepan Arkadyevitch was hardly ever at home; money, too, was hardly ever forthcoming, and Dolly was continually tortured by suspicions of infidelity, which she tried to dismiss, dreading the agonies of jealousy she had been through already. The first onslaught of jealousy, once lived through, could never come back again, and even the discovery of infidelities could never now affect her as it had the first time. Such a discovery now would only mean breaking up family habits, and she let herself be deceived, despising him and still more her–"   
Persephone paused, the unmistakable feeling of skin broke her from her concentration, feeling fingers lace with hers she looked down, Sherlock had grabbed her hand. Her gaze trailed up his body to his face, he didn't look at her, he was looking forward and didn't appear to acknowledge that he had in fact grabbed her hand. But he knew exactly what was happening, but he did not know exactly why. He was so lost in his thoughts about her that he just, grabbed her hand. When she noticed he feared she would pull away, but she didn't, she was in shock for a few moments, face turning as red as the cover of her book. After clearing her throat she continued reading right where she left off.   
People stared at them as they went by, the holding of hands did not go unnoticed as some girls leaned into each other and giggled, some boys snorted and tapped their mates on the shoulder. It was widely known that Sherlock and Persephone were friends, they did everything together, spent every afternoon in the company of the other person. Some people didn't think it would be too long before they started dating, because, what else do teenagers think about? But they were wrong however, they weren't together in the way they thought. Though, admittedly Persephone wouldn't be opposed, and the more Sherlock thought about it, neither would he, if he allowed himself to be completely open and honest, but he didn't know how she felt about him. She's never shown any indication of being interested, he could talk to her about it, but he'd have to find the words, he'd have to write it down. He wasn't open in his feelings and neither was Persephone, he thought. They were both thinkers, but she was a little more open to her feelings than he was, even if she only ever told him and her sister what she was thinking. Sherlock ignored the stares as they walked, Persephone managed to turn the page with one hand and continued reading, and he was pulled back to the sound of her voice.


	8. Chapter Seven: A Nightmare

Persephone sat in front of a large rock, hoping to make it move, or to do something with it. She could control air and water, why not earth? It didn't seem so farfetched from what she had been experiencing lately. When she had initially began this experiment of hers, she thought it best under the cover of darkness, when everyone was asleep, that way no one could see her. Her research had expanded too, from just looking for air based abilities, to all the elements. It somehow led her to the comic book section of the library, a place she never thought to look since she found comics to be boring, and the thought of superheroes to be real, just a bunch of rubbish. Well all exception of Steve Rogers or Captain America as they called him, back in World War Two, when he became the worlds first superhero, but it didn't last long as he went missing shortly before the war ended, no one ever found him and his body was never recovered.   
Persephone found a comic series from the 1970s called The Mighty Isis, after shifting through all the other available comics she thought this was her last option, to get some idea of what to do. She didn't expect any answers, but to her surprise Isis seemed to possess elemental control herself, along with many other things, but Persephone didn't care about those, it was the elements she cared more about. Those powers, her powers.   
Persephone looked around her, looking to make sure there was no one around. The last thing she needs is for someone to see. Turning back to the rock she focused her gaze, never blinking, never leaving the piece of earth in front of her. Moving her hand from her lap she held it out, patience was key, it always is. There's no use in rushing things that shouldn't be rushed.   
Suddenly the rock rumbled and shook under the intense gaze of her eyes. When Persephone was sure it was in her grasp she flicked her wrist, the rock went sliding on the ground, colliding into a tree, a hole was formed near the base, it creaked and groaned and suddenly the quiet autumn air was disturbed by the sound of the tree falling over and hitting the ground. Persephone closed her eyes cringed and shrunk down, opening one so slightly she saw a light tuen on across from her and footsteps creaking against the wood, suddenly she heard birds chirping in the distance and snoring all around her. It wasn't like anything she'd ever experienced before, the air around her was moving the sounds of the world to he ears. She could hear everything...and of course there were somethings she didn't want to hear. Scrunching up her nose at the house to her left she suddenly remembered she was about to be caught. Coming back to her senses she ran for her own house.   
A professor reached the window to see what all the noise was about, a large tree had been knocked over and by it a large gust of wind, blowing away from the knocked over flora. It seemed strange, if the wind blew it over, why was it moving in the opposite direction? Thinking it was a matter best left for the morning, the teacher yawned and went back to bed. 

________________________________

Persephone felt uneasy leaving music class that afternoon. One of the boys in the woodwind section kept staring at her, barely playing his oboe. She could barely focus on her own playing, her fingers shook on the ivory keys on the piano as she felt his cold icy eyes on her. He was Barnaby, the same Barnaby her roommate Grace dated last term. It was unclear why they broke up, Persephone never cared enough to ask. Barnaby was a tall, muscular boy, he carried himself in almost an intimidating way, but he's never been in a fight, he's a model student actually bur something about him just felt...off. Persephone managed to escape to the bathroom in the middle of class, her professor filled in for her on the piano until she got back. Once inside the safety of the girls bathroom she went straight for the sink, turning on the faucet she splashed water on her face and grasped the edge of the basin, she was terrified, she didn't know why, but his eyes, his gaze, shook the girl to her very core. As if suddenly she didn't feel so safe in the bathroom, squeaking came from the stall behind her, turning her head she saw there was nothing there, just an empty toilet.   
After class had ended Persephone left and rushed to go find Sherlock as quickly as she could. She knew she would be safe there, with him. As she rushed she took a wrong turn, going down a pathway that hadn't been used by anyone in a long time, the pavement was cracked and missing pieces, grass had grown in its place. At the end of the path was the old maths building, its been out of use since the late 50's, since the new one was built. The building was decrepit and grey. Broken, boarded up windows, the doors were broken and halfway off their hinges, providing a peak inside the blackness. A stiff, cold breeze picked up, a crow in the distance made Persephone turn her head. There were a couple of them, maybe two or three, sitting in a tree, a dead one at that, the branches were all twisted and the trunk was hollow. Taking a step forward, her dress shoes landed soundlessly on the pavement. All noise seemed to have disappeared, even the call of the crows seemed distant, they slowly grew distorted, turning into human screams. It was dark now, the sun had disappeared and the blue of the sky was replaced with dark, black clouds. Shuffling in the leaves made her turn, a rat, not much larger than a kitten was sniffing around, moving the leaves so Persephone could see the remains of a dead bird, the rat seemed to find it, it went up to the dead creature and began to eat the poor thing, she could hear the squishing of its organs and the crunch of bones, the rat looked up, blood covered its snout and dripped down onto the ground. Persephone took a step back in disgust. She didn't notice she was walking towards the tree, the cawing grew louder, morphing into screaming again. In the darkness of the old maths building she could see shadows move, in the windows, by the doorway. Before she knew it, her hand touched the bark, it was stiff and try in her hands. The small sense of security she had left in her mind was shattered, from the hole in the tree, hands wrapped around her body, they were pitch black, with long, pointed fingernails. A scream rippled from her throat as she managed to free herself from whatever was trying to pull her down, into the tree. She had dropped her bag by the roots, not caring for it right now she ran for the pathway but, it was gone. A brick wall sat as its replacement. Everything around her began to grow dark, and close in around her body. Persephone felt like she couldn't breath. Desperately she searched for a way out, but there wasn't one. In the shadows she saw the figure of a man, just standing there. Frightened and not listening to her own brain shouting at her, she went into the old maths building. Everything was rotten and filthy from years of disuse. The darkness grew, a screaming woman made her spin around, eyes wide and frantic, full of fear as she tried to find the source of the sound. Nothing, there was no one there. She was completely alone, or, she thought she was alone. The shadow man followed her inside. He was standing in the corner, just watching her. A whistle, a long high-pitched whistle sounded in her ears, it was deafening, Persephone covered her ears with her hands until it stopped, eyes screwed shut. When she opened them again, she stood in an old classroom. Desks were piled up against the wall, the blackboard was cracked and covered in dust. The windows were boarded up with graffitied plywood. The closet opened, inch by inch, dead, decayed bodies spilled out onto the floor, one by one, filling the air with the most horrid smell Persephone's ever experienced, a scream got caught in her throat as she repressed the urge to vomit. Again, in the corner of the room stood the shadow man. Feeling no bravery to seek out whatever he was, Persephone ran, trying to find a way out of this place. The shadows seemed to follow her, nipping at her feet. She was being engulfed in darkness, and couldn't find a way out. Trying to run from it, she found herself at a dead end. Clawing hopelessly at the walls, it caught her, turning her head she saw the shadow man before all light was gone from her, forever. 

Startling awake, she sprung upright in her chair, her class turned to look at her, confused. She was in her history class, looking at the clock on the wall it was early afternoon, she still had music after this class. What she had experienced must have been a dream, a nightmare.   
"So glad you could join us, Miss Petříková. We thought we'd lost you." Her teacher said, standing at the projector, a slide presentation about the French Revolution stared back at her.   
"Sorry, Mrs Brightly. I had a late night," Persephone said.   
"Now, as I was saying..." Mrs Brightly turned back to her presentation. Feeling heat from the palm of her hands for the first time she had woken up, she looked down.  
Steam was coming from the palms of her hands, Persephone lifted them from off the paper of her notebook. The pages were all burned and charred in the shape of her hands. Lifting her palms to her face she observed they were still smoking, with a small flame dancing across her skin. Balling her hands up into fists, she snuffed it out and closed her book.


	9. Chapter Eight: I'd Like To Read To You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know how Romance works...but I tried, I was listening to The Wisp Sings by Winter Aid while writing this one, I think its better with that song in the background anyway. 
> 
> Feedback is always appreciated. :)

"Are you okay, Percy? You seem a little on edge," Sherlock asked her, Persephone wasn't paying much attention to him, the nightmare was still fresh in her mind, since the moment she woke up she couldn't still feel the dark, looming presence of the shadow man, everywhere she looked, in the darkness he'd be standing there.  
Sherlock watched his friend look around the courtyard anxiously, he was concerned, to say the least. This wasn't like her, Persephone is usually calm, in any situation, but seeing her somewhat paranoid was off-putting. They were sitting on a bench, their to-go cups long forgotten beside them. In an attempt to comfort her, Sherlock reached out and grabbed her hand, but immediately recoiled. Her skin was unnaturally hot like it was on fire. He examined his own palm, it was red but didn't appear burned. "Are you feeling well?" He asked, figuring it was some kind of fever. Reaching up he placed the back of his hand on her forehead, her temperature was normal. Sherlock furrowed his brows, that was strange. Perhaps it was her coffee that made her hands warm, but she hasn't touched it in over ten minutes.  
"Percy?" He asked again, another question about her wellbeing was on the tip of his tongue when he was interrupted.  
"I'm fine," she snapped at him, only looking at the curly haired boy for a moment before turning back, "I just had a nightmare, that's all." She put her knees to her chest.  
Sherlock nodded in realization of her strange behaviour. "A nightmare is nothing to be ashamed of, you know."  
"I'm not ashamed of it," she mumbled against her knee. "I...I don't know what I'm feeling exactly. I'm scared, even though I know it's not real, I'm still scared."  
His expression turned to one of concern, with a small, barely audible sigh he grabbed her hand off her knee and held it, not minding the idea of getting burned if it made her feel better, but to his surprise, it had cooled. It was still warm, however, but not as scorching. "It's okay to be scared sometimes," he told her. He didn't really believe it but he thought it would make her feel better. Surprisingly he got a calm, little smile out of her. She held onto his hand tighter and lumped over, placing her head on his shoulder, long brown hair cascading over their arms, tickling Sherlock's skin. 

________________________________

She picked up her viola on that Saturday morning. No longer feeling paranoid about the shadow man, she felt at peace now. At peace enough to play, she admits that she has neglected her viola lately. Having been playing the piano most of the time the past year or so. It felt nice to hold it in her hands again, to bring the bow across the strings, sliding her fingertips along the fingerboard. Persephone always felt like the viola was a neglected instrument compared to the violin and cello. But it was just as beautiful as they were, and wasn't much different than the violin, the main differences were the deeper sound and the C3 string instead of the E5.  
She was waiting for Sherlock that morning, they were set to go to the library, Persephone had a chemistry test she wasn't ready for in the slightest, no matter how many times Sherlock said she was.  
She was a genius in every other aspect, science just seemed to run away from her. But as it turns out, recently Sherlock has been needing help in English. And luckily Persephone is an expert. She quickly figured out that his problem was, he was forgetting what he has read. And what he thought was unimportant was actually very important.  
It made Persephone happy to help him, although sometimes he neglected to pay attention, especially when he was bored. The last time he acted completely uninterested was when they had to go through Hamlet. Sherlock had to write an essay on the play and reading it just didn't excite him. Well, him reading it wasn't exciting, Persephone on the other hand...well he sort of talked her into reading it to him. Not that she minded, even if she's read it three times already.

A knock on the door startled her and she stopped playing. Turning around she faced one of the girls from her hall, she smiled at Persephone. "There's a boy downstairs asking for you." She said, running her comb through her afro. "He's kinda cute."  
Persephone chuckled and set her viola down.  
"Thank you, Julie."  
"No problem."  
She left and Persephone rushed to finish getting ready.  
She traded sweatpants for jeans, a striped t-shirt, UGGs and cardigan.  
Ripping a brush through her hair she quickly braided it and sprayed a bit of perfume on her wrists and neck.  
Before leaving she checked the state of her breath. It wasn't terrible and she did brush after breakfast, but she grabbed a mint just in case.  
Practically running downstairs she opened the door and smiled at Sherlock, trying not to seem out of breath.  
"Hey."  
"Slow morning?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.  
"What? No...I've been ready for hours..." she fibbed, but she wasn't the best liar.  
"Your shirts on inside out," he teased.  
"What?" Persephone looked down and examined her shirt, but it wasn't.  
"Liar," she mumbled and they started for the library. 

When they reached the library, he pulled her towards the fireplace. Where they first met. It changed a little since last year, a brown, leather couch had been added, to add more room for student socialization. Sitting in the middle of the couch was a book. Persephone leaned forward and picked it up.  
"Jane Eyre? I haven't read this one in a while," she whispered.  
"Sherlock smiled and took it from her.  
"Do you remember how we met?" He asked. Persephone nodded.  
"Yes, it was a year ago today, I was sitting here, reading the Iliad when you decided to come up and talk to me. But instead of just saying hello, you picked up this book." Persephone moved in front of him and poked at the cover with a clear painted fingernail. "I'd like to read it to you." He said.  
"Hm?"  
"If you don't mind."  
"Why?"  
"Well, because you always read to me so, I thought I'd return the favour."  
She smiled, "if you really want to..."  
"I do."  
"Well...okay." 

He sat her down on the couch, glancing at her nervously. In truth, the book is just a distraction, for himself mostly. He has something else in mind but he didn't want to ask her, not yet.  
Clearing his throat he opened the book and began reading.  
"There was no possibility of taking a walk that day. We had been wandering, indeed, in the leafless shrubbery an hour in the morning; but since dinner (Mrs. Reed, when there was no company, dined early) the cold winter wind had brought with it clouds so sombre, and a rain so penetrating, that further out-door exercise was now out of the question.  
I was glad of it: I never liked long walks, especially on chilly afternoons: dreadful to me was the coming home in the raw twilight, with nipped fingers and toes, and a heart saddened by the chidings of Bessie, the nurse, and humbled by the consciousness of my physical inferiority to Eliza, John, and Georgiana Reed.  
The said Eliza, John, and Georgiana were now clustered round their mama in the drawing-room: she lay reclined on a sofa by the fireside, and with her darlings about her (for the time neither quarrelling nor crying) looked perfectly happy. Me, she had dispensed from joining the group; saying. "She regretted to be under the necessity of keeping me at a distance; but that until she heard from Bessie, and could discover by her own observation, that I was endeavouring in good earnest to acquire a more sociable and childlike disposition, a more attractive and sprightly manner—something lighter, franker, more natural, as it were—she really must exclude me from privileges intended only for contented, happy, little children.""  
Persephone sighed contently and placed her head on his shoulder, listening intently, hanging on to every word. 

Halfway through he closed the book, the sun had set outside, filling the library with an orange light that was not coming through the fireplace.  
Persephone sat there, knees to her chest, half-awake. She wore a sleepy smile on her lips. She'd always wanted Sherlock to read to her, she was always reading to him, so it was nice to shake things up, even if it was only one time. Slowly, she sluggishly moved her hand to grasp his. Sherlock's hands were cold compared to her own. Especially as of late.  
Her head still resting on his shoulder, they were both aware they hadn't moved for hours, but they didn't mind it. They had nowhere else to be.  
Sherlock stole a glance at her, peaceful, silent, no doubt lost in thought. Seizing his opportunity, Sherlock slowly, gently, placed a kiss on her forehead. It was featherlight and a little awkward, like he'd never kissed a single thing in his life until now.  
When she moved her head to look at him he was going to apologize, but Persephone leaned in and placed a little kiss to the side of his lips. He let out a shaky breath, what do they do not? What does he do now?  
They stayed that way for several seconds, not moving, not speaking. Just staring at each other.  
Persephone moved forward, taking the initiative now. Cupping Sherlock's cheek she kissed him, properly. It was a sweet kiss, light but full of feeling. Enough for him to melt under her touch.  
Pulling away, Sherlock stared her, her cheeks were flushed and pink, eyes sparkling and lips parted, just a little.  
His voice came out quiet and unsure, what he had prepared to say had gone out the window, he was left with what was fresh in his mind.  
"I...do you think that we could...uh..." he started, he sounded out of breath, nervous, like he couldn't make the words leave his mouth after all, but he still tried.  
"Sher–"  
"I'd like to be more than friends," he blurted quietly, "if that's okay with you..."  
His heart raced in his chest, waiting for her answer, he counted the seconds in his head before she said.  
"I'd like that."


	10. Chapter Nine: Glad I Met You

Sherlock waited outside the doors to the St. Mary's Hall. Soon they were overflowing with students in the younger grades, chatting and screaming as they walked free for another day.   
Persephone was caught in the sea, trying to push herself past with little success. Sherlock sighed at this mild inconvenience and grabbed her hand, pulling her away from the chaos.   
"Thanks," she whispered, looking at the sea of red that all dispersed into different directions.   
"I don't know why they all need to act like a pack of rabid dogs when school ends." She said.   
Sherlock just wrapped his arm around her shoulders and simply asked, "how was your chemistry exam?"   
A large grin spread over her face.   
"I take it went well?"   
Persephone nodded, "yes, I'm certain I got an A this time! I didn't miraculously forget everything like I usually do." Before Sherlock could laugh she pointed a finger up at him, "speaking of forgetting, how'd you do on your Macbeth essay? We've only worked on it for the better part of November."   
"I did fine, standard."  
"You mean normal people standard or Holmes standard?"   
"Which one do you think, love?"   
Persephone chuckled, "Holmes standard, obviously. So going off that I'd say you got an A."   
"Give or take," he winked and started towards the library.   
Rolling her eyes, the brunette followed her lanky boyfriend. But he insisted on getting to the library first, using those damn long legs of his.   
Now Persephone wasn't one to use her powers often, but if he thought she would let him get to the library first this time, he was sorely mistaken.   
Using the early December wind to her advantage, she sped up her stride. Soon she sped past Sherlock like a blur.   
She leaned against the library wall, near the door.   
When Sherlock caught up at her, he looked confused, he knew she was behind him but now she was...how? Sherlock was unaware that he actually said "how?", out loud. Persephone smiled and opened the door, "magic." She said with a cheeky expression.   
Sherlock watched her go inside, he rolled his eyes, "magic." 

________________________________

It snowed the night before.   
First snowfall of the season. The snow wasn't very deep, but it was deep enough to make Sherlock uncomfortable.   
"See, this wouldn't happen if you had packed your winter boots," she teased, pointing a mitten-clad hand to his chest.   
"It wasn't on my mind at the time," he stated, taking her hand in his. Sherlock couldn't hold her hand the way he wanted too because of her mittens, but he felt lucky to hold her hand at all, without the lingering feeling of awkwardness.   
Sherlock decided to treat her to hot chocolate this afternoon, although it was never a favourite of his, she seemed to enjoy it, which was more than fine.   
Although it was their end destination, neither of them seemed in a rush and were more than content on taking their time. Sherlock watched her play in the snow. He was somewhat surprised she hadn't complained about it being cold yet or asked for his coat. The more he looked at her face, he noticed that her cheeks and nose were not red in the slightest, her little frame didn't shiver or shake. She didn't seem to be cold at all  like she had her own heat source under her coat.   
Sherlock, on the other hand, was freezing and she noticed, they've only been exposed to the elements for about an hour now. Sherlock heard the snow crunch and looked down. Persephone stood there, she reached up and put her uncovered hands on his cheeks. Her hands were warm, and they seemed to be growing warmer the longer she held them there.   
"What are you doing?" He asked.   
The left side of Persephone's lips twitched into a little smirk, "well, I don't you getting sick, and I'm always warm so...I thought I'd share my heat with you."   
When his cheeks were red–and not from the cold, she let him go and put her gloves back on. When she was our of his peripheral, Persephone breathed out, flames escaped her mouth as she did, that was how she was keeping warm, she hadn't quite figured out how to regulate her breathing using the air around her to stay warm, assuming it was possible, so she resorted to fire.   
Putting her mittens back on she followed him. Finding a bench covered in snow she leaped onto the back with ease and grace, extending her arms to feign keeping her balance, when really she didn't need to at all.   
Sherlock noticed and stopped walking.   
"Percy, what are you doing?"   
Persephone grinned, "walking." She said.   
Sherlock sighed, "get down from there before you hurt yourself."   
She looked at him with a cheeky look on her face. "Relax, I'm not going to fall, my balance is impeccable." She countered, and continued walking. Sherlock, having none of her childish behaviour, walked around to the back of the bench and picked her up, bridal style.   
"Hey!" She protested, but didn't fight it.   
To Sherlock's surprise, she was lighter than he thought she would be. Not that he's implying anything, because he isn't, his calculations about her weight was a little off. Not to mention she was at least seven or eight inches shorter than he was.   
"You're exceptionally playful today, love." He commented.   
"Well, you know how I like winter."   
"Yes, I know...I can't understand why."  
"Well theres Christmas, hot chocolate, playing in the snow, curling up under a blanket by the fireplace with a goos book–"  
"I get it, love." He said, cutting her off, if he didn't she could gave gone on for at least an hour.   
Instead of asking to be put down, she just placed her head on his shoulder. Looking down at the bench, she discreetly waved her hand, sending the snow flying off it.   
"Why don't we sit down?" She suggested.   
"Where?"   
Persephone pointed down, at the cleared bench.   
Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "Wasn't it just covered in snow? I could've sworn..."   
Persephone shrugged, "maybe it melted." She said.   
Eventually she got Sherlock to sit down, she sat close to him, sharing her warmth with him.   
After a while Sherlock turned to her, "you're a little furnace," he said, it was a playful statement, but sorta true.   
Persephone rolled her eyes, "I'm just warm, that's all."   
Sherlock moved his arm to wrap around her shoulders.   
He wasn't overly touchy, which Persephone enjoyed. Too often had she seen her sister with clingy boys and had a few herself, she didn't like having someone constantly touching her and grabbing some part of her body at any given time, regardless of her body language. Sherlock actually waited and listened to when she wanted to be touched in some way and drew back if she tensed up, which rarely happened but he respected her boundaries nonetheless. 

________________________________

"Can I ask you something?" Sherlock asked on their afternoon walk.   
"Of course, you can ask me anything." Persephone confirmed, squeezing his arm just a little tighter.   
"Why did you move here?"   
Persephone stopped, she had hoped he'd never ask that question, she had hoped he'd forgotten. Sherlock looked at her, "and you never told me about your mother, either."  
Persephone sighed, "why do you want to know?" She asked him in return, crossing her arms.   
"Because, I want or know everything about you, I know almost everything but those two details of your life, and you know everything about me and I think its been long enough."   
Persephone looked in his eyes, the intoxicating mix of blue, silver and green made her weak in the knees.   
Sighing she nodded her head. "Fine, I'll tell you." She walked over to the bench and sat down and waited for him to join her.   
Taking a deep breath she recalled, "my mother died when I was only a few months old, I don't know why, my father won't tell me. And Harmonia doesn't remember either, but according to her, our mother wasn't sick. She was absolutely fine, until one morning she wouldn't wake up. They said it was natural causes but my sister believes otherwise." She smiled briefly. "When we lived in Sokovia my father had a job. It was a secret, he never told anyone what he did, not a single soul. Not even us. When he came home one day, before we moved, he seemed normal. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary or wrong. Until later that night. I was asleep when my father came into my room and told me, we have to leave. While I was packing a large truck was parked outside of my house, armed men came out the back of the truck. I had a feeling those were the men my father worked for and that he angered them, somehow. But that wasn't the end of it. There was another man with them, he was was tall with shaggy brown hair, goggles and a muzzle covered his face. When I saw his arm my blood ran cold. Titanium." She turned to look at Sherlock. "He's called the Winter Soldier. grew up on tales of him, from kids at school, grown ups in my neighbourhood. Not many people believed him to be real, many people think he's just a ghost story. I never thought I would see him in person. We escaped through the back, down an alley where a car waited. Next thing I knew I was moving in a few doors down from you. Though I didn't know it at the time."   
Sherlock sat there, a million questions running through his mind, but he didn't know how to ask a single one. He didn't know how to respond. How does someone even respond to that?   
"Thats...um..."  
"Its okay, you don't have to say anything, I know how crazy it sounds."   
In the silence he asked, "do you miss it? Do you miss Sokovia?"   
Persephone nodded, "every day, but I'm also glad I moved here. Because if I didn't, I never would have met you."   
A soft grin spread on Sherlock's face, she matched his expression.   
"I'm also glad you moved here," he said. "I can't imagine my life without you now." He whispered, leaning in to kiss her lips.


	11. Chapter Ten: In Case Anything Happens

When Sherlock proposed the idea of Persephone meeting his parents, she was reluctant at first, but eventually warmed up to the idea.   
So, when the Christmas holiday rolled around, she stood outside his home, Sherlock was with her, his hand on the small of her back.  
"Are you sure about this?" She asked, suddenly feeling very nervous.   
"Yes, they'll love you, trust me."   
Persephone nodded and he opened the door. His mother was on them in a second. She was a pretty woman with greying hair and the same eyes as her son.   
Persephone watched her fuss over Sherlock for leaving the house not properly dressed for the weather, until she turned to Persephone.   
"Oh! You must be Persephone!" She greeted, Persephone smiled, "it's um... it's nice to meet you."   
Mrs Holmes pulled the girl forward and looked her over, she turned to her son with a smile. "She's a pretty girl, Sherlock." She said.   
Persephone's cheeks turned bright red, "I um...thank you."   
Mrs Holmes was beaming with warmth, she gave Persephone a gentle pat before saying, "well I hope you two are hungry, I've made lunch."   
They followed her into the kitchen, it was a bit messy but seemed to be used quite often. At the table sat a man, his hair was also greying and he had similar features to his son. Persephone guessed that he was his father.   
"Oh," he said, a little surprised. Standing he walked over to Persephone.   
"You must be the lady who caught our son's attention." He said, she just nodded. As she talked with Sherlock's father, Sherlock stayed close by, just so she was comfortable. 

Soon his mother had them all sitting around the table, lunch of pasta bake. sitting in front of them. There was an awkward silence in the room before his mother decided to ask more questions.   
"So, what is it your father does, Persephone?"   
She set down her fork, "uh, my father writes books on quantum mechanics." She said.   
"Really? And your mother?"   
Persephone pressed her lips together, Sherlock tried to steer the conversation in another direction.   
"No, it's okay Sherlock." She insisted, "its fine, um, my mother is dead." She put it bluntly.   
"Oh," Mrs Holmes covered her mouth with the tips of her fingers in embarrassment, "my dear, I'm so sorry."   
A meek smile crossed her face, "its okay, I don't mind. Truthfully she's been dead the majority of my life." She said with a shrug.   
"So, it's just you and your dad, then?" Mr Holmes asked.   
"Yes, us, plus my sister and our dog, Hana."   
"And where is your sister now?"  
"At Oxford, studying law." She put bluntly. "But at first she wanted to be a doctor, spent about a year in med school, but ended up changing her mind."   
"Have you thought about your future yet?" Mrs Holmes asked.   
"Mother..."  
Persephone chuckled and shrugged, "admittedly I have no idea what I'm doing yet, I'm only fifteen, I don't really see a rush."   
"Fifteen, wow. And when's your birthday?"  
"Um, May 5th."  
The questions went on, they asked where she was from, what her hobbies were, Mrs Holmes asked if she could see herself having a future with her son, which caused Sherlock to choke on his food. Persephone just sat there, face and neck beat red.  
"I think you've asked enough questions, mother," Sherlock said, he grabbed Persephone's hand and stood up. "We'll be upstairs."   
They left the kitchen.   
"Be safe," his mother called. 

Once in Sherlock's room, he shut the door. Persephone stood in the middle of it, taking it in.   
The walls were painted a pale blue. His bed was long, twin sized and up against the wall. He had a single bedside table with a lamp and one of Steven Hawking's books on it, a bookmark deep in the pages. He had a chest of drawers, a closet that was ajar but she could see clothes on the hangers and boxes. There was a bookcase by a door that probably leads to a bathroom. She walked forward and examined the books on the shelves. True Crime, Mysteries, Detective Novels, books on Modern Science, etc. He had a desk, messy, strewn about papers, documenting different experiments, findings, inconclusive results. There was a chemistry set in the corner and a microscope in the middle of it all. By the door of the bed was a trunk, and on the trunk sat a pirate hat.   
Sherlock heard her laugh and turn around. On her head was the pirate hat from when he was a child.   
Sherlock paled considerably, cheeks turning bright red. "Uh, I can explain."   
She took it off her head and spun it on her fingertips, raising an eyebrow. "I know everything about you, huh?" She teased.   
Sherlock took two large strides and took the hat from her.   
"I was embarrassed," he mumbled.   
Persephone crossed her arms, "embarrassed about playing pirates as a child?"   
"No, I uh...I wanted to be a pirate." He admitted.   
Persephone smiled. "oh, well, its not a big of a deal as you're making it, Sherlock." She said.   
"When I was a girl I wanted to be a fairy princess," she admitted in return. "I suppose all children have crazy dreams." She continued.   
It was silent for a while, Persephone had pulled one of Sherlock's books off the shelves and started reading it. He watched her, she was a quick reader without interruption, her eyes scanning over the pages with quick eyes.   
After baring the boredom for a lot longer than he would have liked to he took the book from her hands and set it down.   
"Hey!" She protested but didn't try and take it back.   
"Why don't we...watch a movie or something?" He suggested.   
"Um, sure. What did you have in mind?" 

Downstairs he sat her down on the couch and pulled out a VHS tape, handing it to her.   
"Pinocchio?" She read, raising an eyebrow. Sherlock shrugged, hands behind his back, "well, you like old movies and admittedly the only Disney films I have any recollection of watching are with you, so I thought we could watch it together."   
Beaming at him she nodded and he put the tape in the machine, walking around the coffee table to sit with her.

And the end of the movie Sherlock went on and on about the whole improbability of the films events and plot holes. Persephone sighed, rubbing her forehead on his shoulder. "It's a children's movie, Sherlock."   
"But it doesn't make any sense!" He protested, throwing up his hands.   
Taking his face in her hands she placed a proper kiss to his lips, it seemed to distract him from his previous rantings. But he wasn't exactly done with her let, he pulled her back.   
They've never made out before by any means, the kisses were sloppy and uncoordinated as they tried to find a rhythm. By the time they found it, Sherlock was half laying on top of her, trying not to crush her under his weight. Her hands were in his hair and his were under her shirt, gripping her waist firmly. The room was full of raging teenage hormones as both of them couldn't get enough of each other.   
Somehow they made it into Sherlock's bedroom and onto his bed, with him on top of her, he doesn't even remember moving. He pulled away long enough to look in her eyes, her pupils were dilated almost completely, leaving no trace of their colour.   
"Are you sure about this?" He asked her, Persephone nodded and whispered, "yeah, yeah I'm sure."   
That was all Sherlock needed, he captured her lips against his again, hand moving to unbutton her jeans. 

________________________________

Persephone woke up with a start. Sitting up she looked across the room, it wasn't her bedroom but Sherlock's. Looking out the window she saw that the sun had set and it was dark. The clock on the wall said it was just after eight pm. Turning she looked at Sherlock, he was naked, barely covered by the bed sheet, that was used to cover her bare body. Memories from the afternoon flooded her mind and she smiled blissfully. Laying back down on her stomach she admired him, brushing the hair away from his eyes. "I love you," she whispered. "I kinda have since the moment we met. I just wanted to tell you in case anything happens."   
After a while she figured it was time for her to go, softly, as not to wake him she kissed his cheekbone and gracefully got out of bed. The tossed her clothes back on quickly and walked over to the window, she hadn't even noticed she left her cardigan behind. Opening the window she slipped out and jumped to the ground below, barely making a sound. When she left Sherlock opened his eyes, having heard the whole thing.   
Once in the warmth of her own home she slipped into the shower and got ready for bed. 

In the middle of the night, a black van appeared silently in the darkness.   
Persephone's father sat in the living room, having a beer after finally wrapping all the Christmas presents. Harmonia was due to come home tomorrow afternoon. Suddenly, out of nowhere the door was kicked in and a man let himself inside. He was tall, metal arm and muzzle over his mouth. He knew who it was, everyone at Hydra knew who he was; Bucky Barnes.   
Her father yelled and tried to fight him off, but Bucky just took out a gun and shot him in the abdomen. Wheezing, he slumped against the staircase. Watching the intruder ascend the stairs, he couldn't move. 

Bucky opened every door on the second floor, looking for her.   
Finally, he found the right one and opened it. She was there, sleeping in her bed. Her dog, Hana was asleep on the floor. She woke up to the sound of footfall. Not recognizing the man she began to growl and bark. He took the dog and threw her from the room, she slammed against the wall, breaking the drywall, she was knocked out but otherwise fine.   
Bucky turned back towards Persephone. She hadn't woken up the entire time, a heavy sleeper she was. Carefully he picked her up out of bed and slung her over his shoulder, and just like that, he disappeared, without a single trace.


	12. Chapter Eleven: She's Gone

When Hana came too, she limped down the stairs. Daylight lit up the house and it was eerily quiet. Finding Persephone's father on the floor she whined and nudged the man with her snout, licking his face. Miraculously he survived and swatted his hand weakly at the dog.   
Hana then sprinted out the door and towards Sherlock's house. 

Sherlock and his parents were eating breakfast at the table when they heard a dog barking, scratching at the door. But Sherlock knew the bark. He stood up and said, "Hana?"  
Walking towards the door he opened it, staring at the wolf-dog.   
"What is it, girl?" He asked, getting down at her level. 

Back at the house, Harmonia stepped in, she wasn't prepared for the scene before her. Her father laid on the ground, barely alive. She began to panic, tears welling in her eyes as she hysterically called for an ambulance. The second she put the phone back on the receiver she ran up the stairs, calling desperately for her sister.   
Her door was open, "Percy," she whispered, blubbering through her tears. The moment she saw the empty bed she screamed.   
It was loud enough for Hana and Sherlock to hear, even his parents heard it.   
Hana took off for her house.   
The Holmes' followed.   
When they reached the house Harmonia ran out, overwrought and sobbing, Mr Holmes caught the girl who frantically explained that her father's been shot and Persephone was nowhere to be found.   
"She's gone!"   
Sherlock stood there, paralyzed. His ears rang, his world began to spin, around and around and around.   
She's gone? What does she mean, she's gone? He just saw her yesterday, she couldn't be gone. On numb, shaky legs he walked towards the house.   
"Sherlock," his mother warned, but he couldn't hear her.   
He didn't pay attention to her father. He just made his way upstairs. Without the sounds from her room, it was so quiet, almost dead. Across from her room, there was a giant hole in the wall and white paw prints from the drywall. Pushing her door open, her room was exactly the way it was when he last stepped foot in it. The only thing out of place was her bed, the blankets were tossed away, over by the window, that was it. No sign of a struggle, she was just...gone.   
A weight grew in his chest, heavy enough to crush his heart. He ached, it hurt to breathe. Her bedroom grew blurry and his cheeks became wet. He breathed in and out, but it sounded harrow and painful, gradually turning into wrenching sobs. His entire world just came crashing down around him, and it happened without warning. What does someone do at this moment? What does one do when the only thing you've ever cared about...is gone.   
She was gone, completely and utterly gone. 

________________________________

Persephone woke in the back of a truck, covered in a thick tarp. When it stopped she planned her escape but the men who took her were prepared for any such attempt. The young girl was drugged and carried into a plane.   
"Did you get her?" She heard a man with a Sokovian accent ask as she laid on the floor, helpless to do anything.   
"Yes, sir."   
"Excellent, Strucker will be pleased," footsteps echoed across the floor, the man came into her blurry line of vision, "very pleased." He said.  
"Hail, Hydra."   
________________________________

The experiments happened almost immediately, without hesitation. What they and her father had planned for her all along, was about to begin. A new breed of Super Soldier crossed with the X-Gene of a Mutant. She was going to be spectacular, a true marvel.   
Persephone sat in the cold room, the surface she was on was completely made out of metal. It was brightly lit, the fluorescent lights hurt her skin. Behind the mirror she could tell that there were people behind it, looking at her.   
Strucker and a man named Alexander Pierce were standing there as Hydra nurses prepared her for the experiment, the first of many.   
When Strucker entered the room, Pierce stood behind the two-way mirror, peaking inside. Strucker laid her on her back and took the needle off the metal tray, full of a bright, blue liquid, the first of many doses of their newly formulated Super Soldier Serum.   
The first dose was to be injected into her left arm. Pierce watched in fascination while she writhed and screamed as the nurses held her down, blue veins spread across her skin. They disappeared as she fell limp on the metal surface.

________________________________

The lights overhead flickered, Persephone shifted on the metal table as the nurses tied her down, one of her arms was free and loose. She looked up at their faces, hidden by hospital masks. A door opening and closing nabbed her attention. Her doctor was a terrifying man, boney, skeletal with unkind dark brown eyes, cold as ice. He was a man who enjoys torturing her, as much as he can. He kept her drugged during the procedure, drugged but not completely painless. He wanted her to feel it, as the Serum courses through her body. He spoke to her, his voice was as cold as the deep Arctic waters but had the dictation of nails on a chock-board. "Как мы сегодня?" He asked he grabbed her face in his cold, deathlike hands, making her look at him. "Какая красивая девушка.." He said to her, flashing him his yellow, gnarled teeth. His grip tightened, nails digging into the soft flesh of her cheeks. "красивая." He ran a finger over her lips, Persephone opened her mouth and bit down on the digit, the taste of his skin left a foul taste in her mouth. Screaming in anger he ripped his finger away, raising it to examine it, the blood flowed, down his hand and onto the floor. Her doctor slapped her with the back of his hand, with such force that she hit her head on the metal bar, leaving her semi-conscious. He grabbed her by the neck and squeezed.   
"Какой огонь!" He mused, "Я еще не сломал тебя..." he leaned closer to her, "но я буду." He walked away from her long enough to pull forward a metal table and iv drip. Turning her arm over, he ran his thumb over the vein, purple and bulging from her skin. He attached the iv to her arm, picking up the bag of the Serum, he hooked it up to the bag. Watching it flow slowly down the tube and into her veins.   
Persephone whined and turned her face away, her eyes screwed shut and she grimaced, a sharp cry of pain escaped her lips as she started writhing. Her eyes were stuck open, blue veins spread around her skin. Tears trickled from her eyes and onto the metal. 

________________________________

"Красивая девушка." her doctor started, it had been three weeks since they started, trial after trial, new formula after another. Nothing seemed to work. They needed to find somewhere to keep her, solitary and away from any elements. Yes, they knew all about her powers, it was how her father designed her after he extracted DNA from her mutant mother, her real mother, not the woman she's been told her whole life was her mother.   
Hydra managed to infiltrate the area where they found Vibrainum after following Ulysses Klaue into the country of Wakanda. They fashioned a cell of sorts to keep her in, the Vibrainum was made clear so they could see inside. Cuffs made of the metal on the ground where they kept her on her knees, her arms pulled behind her back. She was blindfolded and gagged, monitored twenty-four seven.   
The experiments were discontinued for a few days until a new Serum was ready for testing.   
She would stare at the vials of bright blue liquid and look away as it was injected into her body. Small doses at a time, over a number of weeks.   
The serum experiments, every week brought a new formula, the beatings from her doctor.   
One night, she fell asleep, her head on the cool metal and arms behind her in the air. For good behaviour they let her see, banging on metal bars drew her attention. Another night passed and the gag was removed, a shock device was planted in her neck, they promised that if she would scream it would be most painful.


	13. Chapter Tweleve: First Mission

Persephone sat in a chair, held down by her arms and legs. Computers beeped, and scans of her brain were pulled up. She was surrounded by people, her eyes immediately connected with Alexander Pierce.   
In order to begin her training, properly, she had to be clean, all memory of who she was needed to be erased. They needed to have complete control of her head. A clean slate.   
"Prep her," Strucker said, a mouth guard was placed in front of her, she kept her lips screwed shut, turning her head away. The doctor slapped her, grabbing her cheeks and pulling her to face him, forcing her mouth open he placed the guard in her mouth. "We do not want you to damage your beautiful teeth when the juice enters your brain." He said.   
"Wipe her."   
Two large metal arms came down, when the machine turned on, it cracked with electricity. A scream left her lips as it made contact with her head. 

________________________________

 

"How is she doing Strucker?" Pierce asked.   
"The brainwashing is working like a charm, a couple more sessions and she'll be...ready." He said with sheer confidence as he held his file.   
"Excellent, I had taken the liberty of issuing a cryochamber for her, to keep her on ice like our friend Barnes." 

________________________________

 

Pierce watched her fight from an overhead rail. They had unfrozen Barnes to serve as her teacher. The man watched as the soldier knocked her to the ground, titanium hand around her throat. She struggled to get away.  
She managed to wrap her legs around his neck and shoulders, flipping them, knee to his throat.   
"Excellent!" Pierce boomed down, "again!" He barked.   
They separated, Persephone wiped her mouth and Bucky charged at her. 

Another session on the machine. This time she obeyed and let them put the guard in her mouth. Taking a deep breath she prepared herself. Barely screaming when it hit her brain. The first time they did this, she forgot little things, names, birthdays, answers to past school tests.   
The second time she forgot every book she ever read, every note she played on the viola, on the piano, how she took her coffee.   
By the third time, she started to forget people. Her father, her sister, her roommate Grace, Sherlock...she couldn't even picture his face.   
She even forgot her own name. 

________________________________

Her first mission was in 1999.   
A man sat in front of her, he leaned in and spoke.   
"Яд, тень, сладкий, снег, сумерки, двенадцать, мягкие, змеи, семь, трамвай, солдат?"   
"Я жду ваших приказаний." She said.   
They gave her the name and address of the man she was sent to kill.   
They kept her dressed in black, covered head to toe, she wore a mask, black and metal, much like the one Bucky wore.   
The girl hopped off her motorcycle without a sound. Gaining momentum she jumped onto the roof of his house. To any cars that drove by, she would barely appear as a shadow. Climbing onto the chimney she slid down the inside, landing soundlessly in the fireplace. Stepping out of it she walked through the house, up the stairs, at the landing she took out her gun she stayed low to the ground as she searched the bedrooms. At the end of the hall, the man and his wife were sleeping in their bed. Stepping through the door she entered the bedroom, the open window offered enough light to illuminate the room. The girl sauntered over to his side of the bed. Taking a throw pillow off the floor she held it in a glove-clad hand. She held it down on his face. The man woke up, he tried to rip the pillow off and release her grip but he was no match for her strength. Pulling the hammer down on her gun she pressed the muzzle to the fabric. The pillow muffled the gunshot. She let go of the pillow as it darkened with his blood. Walking to the other side of the bed she took aim and shot his wife before disappearing through the walls and into his study. Finding a safe there, she grabbed the dial and ripped the door off. Inside was a binder, the symbol for Shield on both the cover and spine. She grabbed it and walked over the window, but not before using her powers to set the house on fire. Opening the glass she jumped down into the garden, being mindful of the flowers below her. 

________________________________

                                          
A few months later, her assassination attempt on Peggy Carter backfired and she was forced to retreat away. Kept in suspended animation, Persephone remained young, ageing ever so slowly. After each mission, she was drugged and dragged into a room where she was strapped to a chair with metal strong enough to contain her, as her memory was wiped. She harboured no emotions, no remorse for the people she killed. 

________________________________

One day in late 2001 she was unfrozen and strapped down. She was given a mission.   
Pierce sat in front of her, instead of her regular guy, he leaned in and spoke to her in Russian.   
"Яд, тень, сладкий, снег, сумерки, двенадцать, мягкие, змеи, семь, уличный автомобиль. солдат?"   
"Я жду ваших приказаний." She said. 

They sent her to a place outside London. A man, Robert Collins, an ex-Shield operative, hacked into Hydra's computer systems and managed to steal decades worth of plans and secret documents. Her mission was to recover the stolen information and get rid of him. 

Persephone parked the bike in an alleyway outside his house. Walking through the bricks she entered the basement and moved silently up the stairs.   
She heard the man talking rapidly on the phone, he sounded scared that he was going to be found out and murdered. Her dark eyes narrowed and she looked out of the keyhole, he paced around the kitchen. Silently she took a gun from her belt and opened the door slowly.   
He didn't notice her until she had the gun aimed at his head and pushed down on the hammer. He turned around in fear and dropped the phone.   
"Please don't hurt me!" He spoke frantically.   
Persephone kept a stone face, her mind was blank, only the mission mattered, not the pleas of a man.   
"Please." He pleaded.   
He started to walk towards the kitchen doorway and Persephone followed, he started running.   
She followed.   
He pulled a gun out from under the coffee table and aimed it at her, she moved impossibly quick, using the air around her, dodging every single bullet aimed at her.   
"What the hell?!"   
He fired again and again and again, nothing. Eventually, he ran out of bullets and pulled the trigger rapidly, his eyes widened with each click.   
He grabbed his laptop and ran for it, running outside and getting in his car. He sped off into the night, down an abandoned road covered in woods.   
He kept looking in his rearview for her, but nothing ever popped up until a large, tank-sized bike crashed into his car, damaging the hood beyond repair.   
Robert's airbag deployed in time to save his life, blood trickled into his eye from the gash on his forehead from the glass of his windshield. Looking up he saw the bike abandoned. It wasn't until his car door was forced open that he screamed. Persephone grabbed his arm and tossed him onto the road. In a pitiful chance to escape, Robert began crawling away.   
A shot rang out and he cried out, rolling over to hold his bleeding leg. The last thing he would see was the muzzle of a gun and a pair of dark eyes and a black mask. 

Pulling the gun away she holstered it and went for the laptop when a buzzing in her brain stopped her. The buzzing grew painful.   
She screamed, reaching up to clutch her head, it soon became unbearable. She ripped off her mask and scratched at her head, grabbing fistfuls of her chocolate hair as she got to her knees and screamed into the night. Her memories, painful, forgotten, lost memories flooded her mind, in fragmented pieces. It was enough for her to remember, some things, but not enough to completely remember who she was, even her name escaped her memory.   
She looked at the laptop, standing on shaky legs, body trembling. She grabbed the computer. A large black truck pulled up and armed men stepped out.   
"Do you have it?" He asked Persephone, she held up the laptop.   
The man took it from her and Persephone's arms fell limp at her sides.   
"Okay, let's go." 

 

On the plane ride back they noticed some abnormalities in her. When they landed one of the men spoke into the communication device on his wrist.   
"She's beginning to remember. Set it up." Lowering his wrist he brings it to his belt where a remote sat. He pressed the button and Persephone went ridged, screaming and clawing at her neck. After a few moments it was enough to knock her out. 

When she came too she was surrounded by men in lab coats, she sat in the chair, her uniform was off with the exception of her pants and compression bra. As she sat there she remembered walking with someone, a tall boy with curly hair, but he didn't have a face, no features.   
The gate opened and Pierce walked through, she just stared off into the distance.   
"Mission report." He said.   
Still, she just looked off into the distance.   
"Mission report, now."  
Fed up with her silence he put on a pair of brass knuckles and stuck her in the face, she reacted mildly. Her face contorted into one of confusion as she looked at the man.   
"Who am I?" She asked.   
"You are a soldier of Hydra." He answered simply.   
"No...who am I." She said more firmly. "What's my name?" She grit her teeth together, clenching her fists. She opened her mouth again but a quick shock made her jolt and lean back in the chair. Pierce straightened up and backed away.   
"Wipe her and start over."   
Two doctors walked over and pushed her back in the chair, one grabbed her a mouth guard, she reluctantly took it. The machine attached itself to her arms, making her jump. They lowered the electroshocks, the crackled and made her baby hairs stand upright as it was attached to the side of her head.


	14. Chapter Thirteen: A Nameless Soldier

2002 

She was given a new trial of the Serum. They wouldn't stop trying until they were successful. This project meant to much to them. She was used to the routine. She laid there, not giving them any issues as they injected the bright blue liquid into her bloodstream.  
Nothing seemed to happen during the session but when she spared with Barnes, she punched a hole straight through the concrete floor. It was large and deep. Strucker moved closer in incredulity. Had it worked? Had the Serum worked?   
He just laughed, Persephone heard him and looked up with soulless, empty dark eyes. 

________________________________

Sitting in the back of a trunk she was given her orders as she strapped up. She was given the name of a man; Dimitri Petříková. Her father.   
"He's too dangerous to be kept alive."   
Persephone had no idea who this man was, she didn't know it was her father.   
She was just a nameless soldier, following orders.   
When they got as close as they could to his house in central London, she disbanded on her bike and drove off into the night. 

Her father was asleep in his two bedroom apartment, Hana and Harmonia were with him too, the dog at the corner of his bed.   
Reaching the door, Persephone picked the lock and slipped inside. All the lights were off and only the moon provided her with the means to are her surroundings.   
Looking around she took in the messy apartment, newspaper clippings, police reports, etc, one many of the clippings was her face, smiling and happy with the sister she forgot. But she didn't know any of that. On the kitchen island was an open phone book, she picked it up and briefly looked through it. 

Harmonia's Cellphone 

Holmes 

Mycroft Holmes 

Sherlock Holmes 

Jia Xing Chinese Cuisine 

And others. 

Placing it down she walked down the little hallway, his bedroom door was open just a crack. She pushed it open and stepped inside.   
Hana woke up, she started to growl but she recognised Persephone, even if her face was almost completely covered. Hana jumped down from the bed and sat there, wagging her tail, expecting Persephone to pet her. But she didn't, instead, she just watched as Persephone walked around her father's bed and picked him up by the collar of his pyjamas and drug him out into the living room.   
He woke up suddenly, as he was thrown down onto the linoleum floor. He looked up at the small girl before him, barely seventeen years old.   
Persephone drew out a gun and pointed it at him. She pulled down on the hammer, his reflexes were quick. He swiftly disarmed her and they fought.   
When she had the upper hand and he was bloody and bruised he reached up towards her face and pulled the mask off.   
Horror, disbelief, sorrow, all of them filled him as he stared at the face of his lost daughter, her eyes that were once soft and kind were now hard and cold.   
"Persephone?" He whispered.   
Persephone furrowed her eyebrows and asked, "who the hell is Persephone?"   
Her father didn't have time to react as a knife was plunged into his chest. She lowered him to the floor as he gagged and choked on his own blood. Hana whined but didn't move. Persephone stood up, she picked up her mask and walked over to the couch to retrieve her gun.   
Hearing the sound of keys she rushed to the window when she opened it the door opened and Harmonia walked in, just in time to see her jump out the window. Letting in the late summer breeze.   
Panic flooded Harmonia's veins as she rushed to her dad, she fumbled with her phone to call an ambulance. When she flipped the phone shut her father struggled to say something. She leaned down, one word escaped his lips, or rather, a name.   
"Percy..." he whispered, weakly pointing to the window before he went limp and cold. Harmonia looked towards the empty window, remembering the girl who jumped. 

________________________________

In early 2003, her case was closed. There were no leads, no witnesses to her disappearance. Her father's ramblings at the time of his death were just treated as simple ramblings of a grieving father. Scotland Yard concluded that she was probably dead as this is what happens with most missing children's cases.   
But of course Sherlock didn't see it that way. He called them all imbeciles and continued to work the case himself. This case was the most important thing in his life, it had been since she disappeared. He dedicated all of his extra time, which wasn't much since he was balancing university atop everything else.   
He began to lose sleep, he stopped eating for long periods of time. He questioned everyone, every single person who could have had some kind of hand in her disappearance.   
As he worked he could feel himself growing colder, he didn't care about other people, they meant nothing to him. His once playful deductions became more telling, upsetting everyone in the room as he cut into the person, not caring if they cried. He lacked sensitivity.   
The night of her disappearance she left her cardigan behind, and he kept it of course. He didn't have much left of her. He kept her viola, a couple photographs, her favourite books sat on his shelf, but he never touched them. He found himself listening to the same music she did. Anything to keep her close.   
When he went back to school at the and of the Christmas holiday everything seemed dull and lifeless. The girls inside Eel Marsh were sad, Grace had to change rooms, she couldn't go back in there and Sherlock stayed as far away from the building as he could.   
For the rest of the year people expressed their condolences to him, but he never thought of them as sincere. It was a foolish sentimental attempt to make him feel better.   
He crossed the room and picked up his violin. He began to play. Sherlock picked up the instrument about a year ago. It was something to keep him distracted, to keep him busy.   
As he played he drifted off into his mind palace. And in there, she wasn't gone.   
She was the first thing to greet him when he drifted away.   
Half of her hair was pulled away into a golden hair clip and she wore a long white dress, he didn't know why he always imagined her in white. But she looked beautiful. This was the only sense of peace he had. She barely spoke, he couldn't give her enough words. He would talk to her instead as they walked. He never thought to ask why she liked walking so much, it was such a simple activity. Even if she was silent in words, she would sing to him. Why did she sing? He doesn't know.   
But her voice always seemed distorted somehow, far away. Maybe it was his brains way to remind him that she wasn't really there.   
He enjoyed her singing but he wanted her to speak, wanted her to say something, anything. He pleaded for her to talk to him.   
Sometimes she would disappear, but he would always find her sitting with his dog Redbeard, the Irish Setter's head would be in her lap and she would just pet him, a warm smile on her face. Sometimes she noticed Sherlock standing there and offered her hand for him to join them. He always did, without hesitation. She would take his hand and place it on Redbeard's head.   
But this time her dress was dull, turning grey. She seemed sad, why did she seem sad? She only had emotions that Sherlock gave her. She didn't sing, she didn't laugh, barely did much of anything. Suddenly she started running, Sherlock called her name and ran after her in desperation. In the middle of it all he felt her presence behind him and he turned, she opened her mouth and whispered, "Find me."


	15. Chapter Fourteen: Ten Years

Persephone watched out the window, the brightness from the snow was almost blinding. This is the longest she's ever been awake. She was supposed to be twenty by now in late December, and 2004 was just a few days away. Yet she was just shy of nineteen. One of Strucker's walked into the room and stared at her. She wore all black, her arms were crossed and she seemed oblivious to her surroundings. He'd watched her for a long time and was falling in love with the soldier, even though she was over twenty years younger than he was, but he didn't see it as wrong.   
Persephone turned her head when she heard feet behind her. A middle-aged man with a receding hairline walked up to him. She just turned her head back to the window. He stood beside her, squinting at the brightness of the outside world.   
"Hello," he said with a smile, she glanced at him, remaining stone-faced and silent.   
"I've been watching you for a long time."  
No reaction.   
"I think you're beautiful," he said. This time she flinched.   
"I was wondering if you'd like to go on a walk with me?" He asked.   
"No thanks." She said, her voice was monotone, completely devoid of any emotion.   
"Oh c'mon, I'm sure I'll make it worth your while." He said, reaching up to touch her hair. Persephone yelled in defence and grabbed his arm, breaking it with a sickening crunch. He screamed, guards outside the door walked in with Strucker. In the room they saw one of their own huddled onto the floor, holding his broken arm while Persephone hovered over him like a predator does with prey.   
Unfortunately for her, the man was one of Strucker's favourites. 

For her punishment, she was practically thrown into the chair and the guard was forced inside her mouth.  
It was just supposed to be a standard memory wipe but Strucker thought otherwise. He pushed the man aside and turned the machine up all the way.   
"No! That's too much!"  
Persephone screamed in agony, even though the guard. The veins in her neck popped up as she endured this torture. When it was done she slumped over, barely conscious but alive having just survived enough electrical shock to kill a grown man.   
"Put her on ice," Strucker commanded.   
"But sir, she needs time to rest–"  
"NOW!"   
She was half dragged to her cryo-chamber.

They unfroze her after a few months. She had a mission. They would be aided by a group of heavily armed men as they took out the target. Hw would also be heavily armed with bodyguards. 

New York was busy that day, as it always does. Their target was a Shield agent. A while ago he infiltrated one of Hydras cells in Belgium. When it was discovered that he was working double, Pierce ordered he be taken out. The man, known from this moment as Agent Byrne stops at a red traffic light, he looks over to the next car and sees the two police officers in the car look at him, the policemen quickly sound their police horn once before they start to drive off, as Byrne goes to drive off suddenly another police car smashes into his car, his car is then surrounded by several other police cars crashing into him; inside his car and he is injured.   
A SWAT van pulls up.   
Byrne quickly realizes they are all disguised mercenaries.   
As he tries to drive away, the mercenaries suddenly start shooting at his car.   
The armour on Byrne's vehicle starts to become weaker, the mercenaries bring out a battering ram to break in. They start to use the battering ram on his car window.   
BOOM.   
BOOM.  
BOOM.   
BOOM.   
But when the window breaks, he's ready for them, a minigun pulls up from inside the car and Byrne uses it to return fire on the mercenaries causing the SWAT van and some of the police cars to explode. He takes this opportunity to drive away, but they follow him.   
Byrne heads into the traffic he smashes into some cars causing a pile-up which stops the police cars, the mercenaries get out and start shooting at Byrne's car, he manages to kill two of the mercenaries by running them down before getting past the traffic, but the remaining mercenaries continue to chase after him and manage to sandwich his vehicle between them, as they approach the intersection Byrne manages to shake off the two police cars, they're run over by an 18-wheeler.   
Byrne sees a mysterious figure of a young woman emerge ahead which suddenly shoots a bomb that attaches itself to his vehicle causing it to explode and flip over; trapped inside his car, Byrne watches as the woman walks over to the car, he's crushed under the weight of his vehicle, unable to squirm free. She reaches him now and digs her fingers into the metal, tossing the car off his body. He's a sitting duck, as the bones in his legs had broken upon impact. He stares up at the woman, face obscured by a mask. But then on the sleeve of her clothing, he sees a black Hydra insignia. It's all over for him.   
The essential killing itself is quick, its done in a matter of seconds. 

_______________________________

2005

Sherlock left the movies after a showing of Pride and Prejudice. Throughout the entire movie, he ignored the stares of others as he went in alone, sat down alone and left, alone. When he was home he was shaky and reached for a cigarette off his desk. When he was sufficiently calm he sat down and entered his mind palace.   
Persephone was waiting there, now in a dark grey dress. She didn't smile when she saw him, her emotions mimicked his own. She was sad like he was.   
They sat together and he said, "I saw Pride and Prejudice today. They remade it." He paused to recall, "I think you would have liked this one," he said. "I don't think you would have really liked the Phantom of the Opera movie that came out last year, although I may be wrong, you always were so fond of the older movies, especially the silent one. And the one with Charles Dance, that mini-series."   
He knew he was essentially talking to himself, he didn't care.   
"I saw the musical in the West End, I would have loved to take you."   
He stared at her blank face.   
"Say something," he urged. "Please," it came out in a broken whisper. But what he really meant to say was "come back to me." 

________________________________

2006 

Harmonia went to visit Sherlock, she was freshly married and had a baby on the way. It was the anniversary of Persephone's disappearance. She didn't want him to be alone again, neither did his brother Mycroft. They were afraid he'd turn to drugs again. No matter how many times he tried to play it off as just for entertainment but they knew better. They sat in his apartment, the wall behind the couch was covered in old newspapers, leads, photographs of potential suspects. And Sherlock himself was a mess, his hair was untidy and probably hasn't been brushed in several days. There were empty tea mugs scattered all over, old case files he's been working on with his friend Greg Lestrade, though he doesn't quite see him as a friend. 

"Sherlock, it been almost ten years," she said.   
"I know," was his response.   
"I don't understand why you torture yourself like this."   
"I don't expect her too, you didn't love her the way I did."   
He kept his back to her. Harmonia scoffed, trying not to let his words hurt her, how dare he say that? Given that he's talking to Harmonia, her sister.   
A sister who would give anything to see Persephone again.   
"She wouldn't want this, you know."  
Sherlock turned around.   
"She wouldn't want you wasting your life away, looking for her."   
"What else am I supposed to do?" He asked, more to himself than to her.   
"Let her go."   
Sherlock looked at her with repulsion, how could she suggest such a thing? It was beyond him.   
"No," he said, turning back to his case-board. "She'd want me to keep searching for her."   
"Sherlock," Harmonia tried again.   
"She's still out there," he insisted. "I know she is."   
Harmonia let out a sigh of defeat, she couldn't fight with him about it anymore, to her, he was lost. Completely lost.   
She gathered her things and said one last thing before leaving, "I want to believe she's out there too. But sometimes you need to just let things go...let her go. For all our sakes."


	16. Chapter Fifteen: They Found Her

Hydra started to use her more that year, they moved her to America, and her missions were frequent. And not a single one of them failed. Soon her body count was almost one hundred. Which doesn't seem like many in the long run but if one considers the many years shes been active.   
Right now she stands, surrounded by unconscious, beaten men and women. Fire and broken pieces of concrete all around them. Twenty. That's how old she was. Despite all the years that had gone by, she was still just twenty years old.   
Persephone didn't have much time to clean herself up as she had a new mission. 

_______________________________

Mycroft was tired, tired of pulling Sherlock out of another drug-den. He would never admit it but it broke his heart to see his brother this way. He didn't understand why Sherlock just couldn't let this girl go. If it had been Mycroft in Sherlock's place, he would have. But he forgets that beneath his cold, abrasive exterior, he's sentimental. Always has been an emotional boy. No matter how many times he says he's not.   
When Sherlock was safe at home Mycroft walked into the kitchen and dialled a few numbers.   
In the past the Military Intelligence worked with a group calling themselves Shield. Why he hadn't thought about them, he doesn't know. But he made the calls and flew out to see a man named Nick Fury, the director of Shield. He questioned Mycroft. He had an answer for every single one. Mycroft soon convinced Fury to help him, having worked together in the past, they were one good terms and Mycroft didn't fail to mention that one of the founders of Shield was a British woman–Margaret Carter.   
But who had Persephone? Where was she?  
Fury had an answer to that.   
"Last year one of our agent was killed by an organization called Hydra. Heard of them?"   
"I've heard whispers." Mycroft said.   
"Well, when we surveyed the scene," he got up from his desk and turned on a large monitor. "We found security footage."   
One the screen was a silent playback of that day.   
A dark haired woman clad in all black and a mask shot a bomb at agent Byrnes vehicle. She then went on to throw the vehicle a good distance away before killing him. The woman in question was the same height and weight Persephone had been when she disappeared. But with a few differences–more womanly and a bit more muscular in the arms.   
"We think that might be your girl," Fury sad, sitting back down. "But we can't be certain."   
"You think Persephone is with Hydra?"  
"Well...not willingly." 

_______________________________

They found the cell that kept her, deep in Missouri. Shield and MI6 went in with guns blazing, it turned into a full on war zone. They rushed to prep her cryo-chamber for moving–with her still inside.   
Rushing, they paid attention to the gunfire outside, to time how much longer they had left. They were working against the clock as Shield and MI6 drew closer.   
They almost had her safely ready for travel when from outside the footsteps stopped and beeping from the door made them stop and turn. Suddenly the door blew open with a boom and smoke as armed men stormed in and screamed. It was over for them, he was done. They had her now. They took the girl and every file they had on her. Sparing their lives but not before cuffing them.   
During Mycroft's call to Harmonia all he said was "they found her." 

_______________________________

He took her with him. They stood outside a white room as she laid in the bed, wearing white cotton clothes. She had been bathed and fed. And her confusion about what was going on had them perplexed, she asked them for orders but they just told her to go to sleep, and everything will be figured out in the morning.   
Harmonia watched her with tears in her eyes. She didn't know what do do, what to think, what to feel. What does one do in this situation? After ten years and being face to face with someone you thought was dead–someone you sure was dead.   
She asked Mycroft if Sherlock knew. Admittedly he didn't. Harmonia asked him why, he said it wasn't the right time.   
Patience was what they needed. After her first therapy session after she woke up and ate it was discovered hat she had no memories. She didn't know a single thing. Her files confirmed it all. After every mission, after every time she was out in the world, her memory was erased. That knowledge alone made Harmonia sit down in disbelief, she didn't want to believe it, she couldn't believe it. The person in that room was her sister, yes. But it wasn't HER sister. She couldn't even see Persephone, and what was the point if she didn't know who you were going in.  
And that wasn't everything, when the carbon dated her, they found out that Persephone was twenty. Harmonia didn't believe them at first, she couldn't be twenty, she was supposed to be twenty-five. She had to be twenty-five, even Sherlock was twenty-seven and they were only two years apart.   
In Harmonia's mind, there was no way.   
When giving the information they left out Persephone's life as an assassin. They didn't wish to distress the poor woman any further. When she was awake they monitored her. She didn't do much. She just stared out the window or played with her powers. Powers Harmonia had no idea she had until this moment. She watched in awestruck, but also in fear.   
"How is this possible?" She asked, barely above a whisper.   
"She's a Mutant," the doctor that was assigned to her said. Harmonia looked at Mycroft with confusion and asked, "I'm sorry...what?"   
The doctor had explained everything.   
How Persephone was conceived in an experiment. An experiment conducted by her father–their father. Hydra wanted to see what happened when they mixed Mutant DNA with the Super Soldier Serum. They explained that the mother that Harmonia thought she and Persephone shared was just her mother. Persephone's mother was a different woman entirely. He explained that when Persephone was born, Hydra wanted to keep the child in the lab but their father thought it best she grow up like a normal girl.   
Unfortunately Harmonia's mother had no knowledge of this baby, so she had to be removed from the picture. The poison worked quickly and Harmonia's memories were replaced with false ones.   
When it was time for their father to bring Persephone back to the lab to begin testing, he refused and that's when Hydra sent men after them, thats why they left Sokovia. He had grown attached to the child when he was never supposed to, even if she was his creation, in both science and biology. 

Harmonia replayed the therapy session in her head.   
"Do you know your name?" She asked Persephone.   
"No."  
"How old are you?"  
"I don't know."   
"Do you know when your birthday is?"  
"No."   
She didn't remember Sherlock, she didn't remember Hana or their father, where she was from, she didn't know anything. And when the therapist held up a photograph of Harmonia and asked if Persephone knew who that was, a sob escaped Harmonia's lips when Persephone shook her head and said, "I'm sorry, I have no idea who that is."


	17. Chapter Sixteen: Call Me Seph.

Therapy, six months of intense therapy. Trying to recover her lost memories, but they were gone forever, everything she had known before Hydra, she'll never get it back.   
They never told her about Sherlock Holmes, her relationship with him. They didn't want to confuse her even more. Sherlock could wait. She was still getting used to having a sister and a nephew. A nephew she refused to hold. She knew what her hands were capable of, she was afraid she'd burn the child or crush him in her hands. The toddler would cry when she would turn away from him. But she said it was for the best. She was told about her time with Hydra, she wanted to know everything and they told her, she didn't take it well in the beginning, there was screaming and yelling, a few tears were shed, and she disappeared that night, only to be found drinking from a bottle of Jameson on a street corner. Asking, mostly to herself, why wasn't she drunk? Why couldn't she get drunk?   
They told her it was because of the Serum. Her body metabolism is so efficient in processing toxins that alcohol basically has no effect on her.   
During her time at Shield, she was given a space to discover her powers–fully.   
During her time at Hydra they never really let her, the most focused on the Serum. Through this, she learned that she could fly. She watched a cartoon called Avatar: The Last Airbender, it went further in depth in her elemental abilities. She studied each scene, each fight. She refused to call it "bending" however, finding the term ridiculous.   
Occasionally she got confused when people called her by her name.   
The longer she spent awake, the clearer the classic textbook symptoms for Post Traumatic Stress Disorder became to her therapist. But as textbook as these symptoms were, PTSD effects everyone differently. Persephone had flashbacks, though they were fuzzy and distorted, she could still hear the screams and gunfire. She had nightmares almost every single night, which lead to insomnia, another symptom. She barely slept, and she always managed to find an excuse not too. She felt guilt, horrible and painful guilt, she would cry, scream and damn herself, no matter how many times they told her that it wasn't her fault for what happened.   
She startled easily, almost attacking or attacking people out of self-defence but she apologized when she realized who it was.   
She was irritable and angry almost all the time. Shouting and snapping at the people who only wanted to help her.   
She was self-destructive, she drank, way too much, didn't eat, picked up smoking as a way to calm her nerves, despite her therapist telling her it will only make her feel worse.   
She had trouble feeling her emotions, sometimes she couldn't cry or smile, feel joy or fear, she was paralyzed in her feelings. "I no longer feel things, I know I should." She said.   
She felt hopeless sometimes, she felt alone, even though she wasn't. Persephone felt apathy more often than she should, not caring about things or other people, she wasn't interested in the things she used to be before she was taken, she didn't read the books her sister brought, didn't touch the piano given to her or the viola...she just wasn't interested. She spent most of her days alone, locked in her room. Sometimes she wouldn't come out for days. She avoided people, topics of discussion, sometimes she wouldn't show up for therapy at all. Dissociation, again, lacking connection, losing touch with those around her, she would blank out and would take a while to come back to reality.   
Mistrust, Persephone didn't trust anyone, not until Natasha Romanoff came along. 

_______________________________

Persephone spent a lot of time with the redhead, she didn't pay attention to other people. Or until Natasha introduced her to Clint Barton.   
They hit it off, friendship wise. Even though Persephone had her doubts about trusting Barton. But she pushed it from her mind, didn't matter how much it kept nagging at her.   
Finally, in mid-2009, Fury came up with a proposition for Persephone, well it was actually more like a job offer. He felt like it was time and she was mentally sound enough to become an agent. Her therapist begged Fury to give her more time but he disagreed. Her first mission was with Natasha and Barton in Austria. It went well, as well it could with a   
But she was good at taking and following orders, she didn't go rogue and do her own thing like some agents were known to do. They guessed some of Hydra's programming was still in her head.   
But the first mission left her in a bad place. In the midst of it all, flashbacks ravaged her mind. But she pushed through them, after all, she was given direct orders, the mission had to be completed. 

Back at headquarters, Natasha found her in the gym late one night. Ruthlessly pounding on a punching bag. She approached Persephone cautiously, she waited until the bag broke under her relentless abuse, and she had to pick up a new one.   
Persephone faced the concerned redhead but didn't say anything, she just hung up the bag.   
"You've been awake for three days," she said.   
"I know," Persephone grunted, giving the bag a right hook.   
"You need to rest, Percy," Natasha said.   
Persephone turned to her, "don't call me Percy, it's literally the worst nickname ever, call me Seph."   
Seph...you need to sleep."   
"I can't, you know that."   
Natasha sighed in frustration, "you at least need to try." 

_______________________________

Mycroft came to visit her one afternoon. They sat in comfy chairs, drinking tea.   
Mycroft was in a suit while Persephone wore grey leggings, socks, slippers, a long-sleeved white shirt and cardigans. She was curled up in her chair, tea in her lap.   
"How are you?"  
"I'm fine, Mr Holmes."  
"Call me Mycroft, we've known each other long enough now, don't you think."  
Persephone shrugged, "I suppose so."   
"I hear they have you on the field."   
Persephone nodded. Adjusting herself in the chair. "Yes, I am."  
"And do you think its a wise decision?"  
Persephone pressed her lips together and answered, "I'm just doing what I'm good at, following orders." She said bitterly.   
Mycroft quickly changed the topic, "and your friend Romanoff–"   
Persephone cut him off, picking fluff off her cardigan. "No, I don't consider her a friend yet, lets just use colleague for now."  
"Fine, you and your colleague, Romanoff, seem to be getting along."   
"Yeah, I guess so...I guess we are."   
Deciding the small talk was enough Mycroft pulled out a package and handed it to her.   
"It's from your sister, Harmonia."   
Persephone unwrapped it and stared at the photo album. She opened it.   
It was full of pictures and milestones from her nephew, Marcus.   
"Uh..." she furrowed her eyebrows in slight confusion. "Tell her I said thanks I guess." She said in a flat tone, she knows she's supposed to be feeling something here but she just shrugged.   
"She misses you," Mycroft said.   
Persephone scrunched her lips and shrugged, "it's for the best. I don't want to hurt her...even if I can't remember our childhood together, I'm still too much of a risk."


	18. Chapter Seventeen: This Is My Brother, Sherlock Holmes

January 2010 

The nightmare was hazy and distorted, the furniture moved and groaned. She moved through the apartment on heavy legs. It sped, she was suddenly in the bedroom, paying no attention to the dog. In a flash, she picked up the man and they fought, it was a jumbled mess of limbs and yells. Everything slowed enough for her to see his face as he whispered, "Persephone?"   
She could see her own face now, cold emotionless eyes, like someone, would see on a robot. She looked at the man and said, "who the hell is Persephone?"   
Suddenly she stabs him. Directly into his heart, blood sputters out, splashing on her face and neck, covering the gloves on her hand. The man writhed as blood pooled out of him, soaking the floor in ankle high puddles. Slipping she fall into it, it coated her body, she tried wiping it from her eyes but all she could see was red. Suddenly a hand reached out and grabbed her ankle, she screamed, silent, soundless. The hand had an iron grip and she couldn't get away. Another hand grabbed her wrist, more and more they emerged from the blood. One hundred hands.   
They pulled her under, through the floor, blood splashed the ceiling, coating the entire room red. 

Persephone woke with a start. Turning her head she looked at her clock, it was just after four in the morning. She sat up, sheet pooling around her hips. Taking a deep breath she ran her fingers through her tangled hair. Running her hand over her face she tried to trap the tears that prickled in her eyes. Breathing deeply,   
In and out   
In and out   
In and out  
She had calmed enough to get out of bed, walking to her small attached bathroom.   
The hot water from the shower was welcoming, the steam cleared her head and she stood under the water. Breathing steam out from her own mouth she picked up the shampoo bottle. 

The gym was empty, just how she liked it to be, but it was expected, who would work out at 4:30 in the morning. 

 

Around noon Maria hill entered the gym, Persephone was still in there, beating another punching bag. Persephone saw the woman and stopped, taking the opportunity to take a drink, ignoring her shaky muscles.

"Fury needs to see you in his office." She said.   
"What for!"   
"Follow me, please." Maria walked out of the gym.   
"Dammit," she whispered.   
Groaning loudly she followed the woman into the elevator. The screen inside showed Maria's face with "Level 9" over her head and then Persephone's with "Level 7" over hers.   
The ride was quick and silent, the two women walked down the hall.   
"So, did he tell you why he wants to see me?"   
"Yes, but I'm not going to tell you why."   
She opened the sliding doors and Persephone walked inside.    
"What was so urgent that you needed me on a Saturday morning, Nick?" She said, standing there with her arms crossed in her gym attire. Nick spun around in his chair to face her.   
"Ah, there she is, my favourite amnesiac."  
That was his nickname for her, she hated it, but she couldn't exactly chew out her boss about it. She just grits her teeth and bared it.   
"I'm not in the mood for games, Nick. What do you need me for?"   
The man sighed deeply and slid a file her way. Persephone picked it up and opened it, right away she looked at the middle-aged man, taller than any man she's ever seen with a bald head.   
"Oskar Dzundza. Working for a man we believe to be called Moriarty."   
"Moriarty? Any first name to go with it?"  
"Not that our agents could find."   
"Oh, how wonderful," Persephone rolled her eyes and flopped down in one of his comfy armchairs. "So you're sending me somewhere with nothing to go on but the last name of a man and a Czech giant?"   
"Moriarty is something referred to as a Consulting Criminal, as ridiculous as that sounds, but with each passing day he becomes more and more of a threat to global security. Any and all information we have on him and his recent movements are in that file," he pointed to it.   
"So my mission is to find Moriarty and alive is preferable."   
"Right on the nose Agent." He walked around his desk, "we'll be sending you to London, you'll be going undercover as a detective at Scotland Yard under the supervision of Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade and you will keep us on speed dial and inform me directly of any and all developments, have I made myself clear Agent?"  
"Crystal sir, when do I leave?"  
"Departure is effective immediately."   
Persephone nodded and turned to leave, closing the door doors behind her. 

Persephone walked out onto the loading dock wearing civilian clothing. She would be provided with a new wardrobe in her shield issued apartment. She nodded to Maria and entered the Quinjet, Clint was on pilot.   
"Hey loser," she greeted him, signing it as well as speaking, Clint was deaf, but not completely.   
"Loser, I take offence to that."   
"Mm, I'm sure you do."   
She sat down in the co-pilot's chair next to him. "Sorry for missing our lunch get together, this was spontaneously sprung on me."   
"No its fine, Natasha was grumpy that you didn't show up, threatened to drag you out of the gym herself."   
Selene smiled and rested her head on her hand.   
"So whats on the agenda?"  
"Find the Consulting Criminal Moriarty." She signed.   
"Moriarty?"   
"Its a name, the agents assigned on Intel didn't get the first name."   
"Well good luck with that."   
Persephone playfully smacked him. 

                                        -   
She accompanied an officer to the scene. She was informed of what had occurred there just moments earlier by the officer that was escorting her. She explained the taxi murder-suicides. She was there to meet Mycroft, who would take her to the apartment she had been issued to stay during her mission.   
When they pulled up, Mycroft and his brother Sherlock had stopped arguing. The officer stepped out and Persephone followed. Sherlock stared as a black suede boot stepped into the asphalt, followed by another and finally she emerged, in black jeans, t-shirt and leather jacket, flipping her hair over her shoulder, lips painted a dark red. Sherlock froze and the world stopped around him. It looked like...but it couldn't be...was it. It had to be her, Persephone.   
He grew dizzy and felt like he was going to fall, but he kept himself grounded. After just thirteen years...she was standing in front of him. She barely changed, the only difference was she appeared to have more muscle on her arms than before. She walked up to them and she didn't smile at Sherlock, she didn't even acknowledge his existence. But she smiled at Mycroft. She looked like she knew him. How could she know Mycroft? To Sherlock's knowledge, she never met him before.   
"Mr Holmes," she greeted, crossing her arms.   
"I told you to call me Mycroft," he stated, "you've arrived earlier than I had expected, I thought I was going to pick you up at Scotland Yard."   
"Sorry, I just got bored." Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Sherlock and John and turned to them.   
"Uh, hi." She greeted.   
Sherlock's heart skipped a beat with hope, maybe she had recognized him after all.   
"I'm–"   
"Persephone," Sherlock said.  
Persephone took a step back and looked at him with wide eyes, "um yes, how did you know?"  
"You mean...you don't recognize me?"   
Persephone pressed her lips into a line, she shook her head and shrugged, "sorry, I have no idea."   
She turned to Mycroft, who stepped in.   
"Persephone, this is my brother Sherlock Holmes and his friend Doctor John Watson."   
She shook both of their hands, but Sherlock lingered longer than she was comfortable with. Mycroft could see the pain in his brother's eyes as she ripped her hand away.   
She let out a strained chuckle and turned to the elder Holmes.   
"I'll be in the car." She said and left.   
Sherlock narrowed his eyes at his brother and spoke through gritted teeth, "how does she know you? How does she not remember me?"   
Mycroft spoke calmly, "come by my office tomorrow, I'll explain everything there."   
He turned to leave, "John." 

Sherlock watched them drive away, his lip quivered and eyes full to the brim of tears.   
She didn't recognize him.  
She didn't even know him.


End file.
